THE 



COLUMBIAN ^ 



PLUTARCH; 

OR, 

AN EXEiMPLIFICATION 



OF SEVERAL DISTINGUISHED 



A] 



BY THOMAS WOODWARD. 



PHILADELPHIA:^ 

PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, 

By Clark & Raser. 
1819. 

y 



ii'astern District of Pennsylvania, to -wit : 

BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the twentieth day of November, in the 
forty-fourth year of the independence of the United States of America, A. D. 1819, 
Thomas Woodward, of the said district, hath deposited in this office the title of a 
book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit: 

"The Columbian Plutarch; or, an exemplification of several distinguished 
American Characters, By Thomas Woodward." 

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled " An 
Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, 
and Books, to the authors.^nd proprietors of such copies, during the times therein 



mentioned." — And also to the act, entitled, " An Act supplementary to an Act, 

entitled, ' An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of 

"' ■ ." . ■ e authors and proprietors of such copies during the 

extending the benefits thereof to the arts of desig^n- 

ijtoncal and other prints." 

•-^ac-a -2 irtli.,?' CALDWELL, 

' '""xneft OTme Easlfern District of Pennsylvania. 



Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the 
time^ therein mentioned,' and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of desig^n- 
ing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 



INTRODUCTION. 



Biography, or that species of writing which 
* jcords the Hves and actions of illustrious men, 
1 s ever been esteemed as one of the most use- 
i a branches of literature, and cultivated with a 
high and fond devotion. By all who are versed 
hi the knowledge of antiquity it is well known, 
vmt no writings were more highly esteemed by 

e ancients than the biographical productions 
of Nepos and Plutarch, and they still continue 
to be read with peculiar interest and delight 
and to rank with the first ornaments of classical 
learning. The lives and actions of those distin- 
guished men, which they so ably record, still 
command admiration. For the homage and ap- 
plause, which persons obtain by the achieve- 
ment of events of importance and of lasting ad- 
vantage to their country, or to mankind in gene- 
ral, cannot be restrained by any lapse of time. 
They have ever been bestowed by all civilized 
nations, and will be perpetuated by the enlight- 
ened of every succeeding age. 



IV IKTRODUCTIOK. 



" The principal end of biography/' says a late 
writer, "is threefold; to delight, to instruct, and 
to stimulate. The first of these objects is effected 
chiefly by a recital of the actions, and a view of 
the virtues and dispositions of eminent men, con- 
nected with an account of the various incidents 
and events of their lives; the second, by a faith- 
ful representation of the methods, and measures, 
by which their eminence was gradually attained; 
and the third, by holding forth the honours con- 
ferred on them, and the consideration they had 
acquired in the world, as incentives to awaken the 
emulation of others. When biography has accom- 
plished this treble purpose, besides doing justice 
to distinction and worth, and gratifying that 
universal and laudable curiosity, which is so 
eager to be made acquainted with the lives of 
great men, she encourages the timid, gives hope 
to the desponding, rouses the inactive, furnishes 
the enterprising with a chart for their conduct, 
and teaches every one to turn to the best account, 
the powers and means with which he is en- 
trusted.^' 

Nor is biography interesting only when the 
most amiable and distinguished characters are 
the subjects of notice. Dr. Johnson says, " There 
has, perhaps, scarcely passed a hfe, of which a 



INTRODICTION, V 

judicious and faitliful narrative would not be 
useful. For not only every man has, in the 
mighty mass of the world, great numbers in the 
same condition with himself, to whom his mis- 
takes and miscarriages, escapes and expedients, 
would be of immediate and apparent use; but 
there is such an uniformity in the state of man, 
considered apart from adventitious and separa- 
ble decorations and disguises, that there is scarce 
any possibility of good or ill but is common to 
human kind." 

Among modern nations which have been pro- 
lific in truly illustrious characters, America has 
produced her full share. The people of the 
land of Washington, Franklin, Rittenhouse, 
Rush, and Hamilton, may dispute the palm of 
philosophy, and patriotism, with any other na- 
tion of the globe. 

The object of this publication is to extend 
3ome information respecting several of the most 
eminent and distinguished men in North Ame- 
rica, from its first discovery to the present time. 
For the biographical memoirs contained in this 
collection, the author is principally indebted to 
Dr. Rees' Cyclopaedia, Allen's Biographical Dic- 
tionary, and Delaplaine's Repository of the Lives 
ind Portraits of Distinguished American Cha- 



vi INTRODUCTION. 

racters. The latter work ranks high in the lite 
rature of our country. It contains the best his 
torical delineations of character that have beei 
written, perhaps, in any language. 



CONTENTS. 



Life of Columbus 
Vesputius 
J. Cabot 
S. Cabot 
Cartier . 
Smith 
Robinson 
G. Calvert 
L. Calvert 
Penn 
Bartram 
Benezet 
Warren 
Greene 
Franklin 
Hancock 
Rittenhouse 
Wayne 
Washington 
Henry 
S. Adams 
Hamilton 
Wythe . 
Ames 
Dr. Rush 
Dr. Ramsay 
J. Adams 
Jefferson 



THE 

COLUMBIAN PLUTARCH. 



LIFE OF COLUMBUS. 

It is said by a late writer, that, " were the 
influence and consequences of human actions 
regarded as a correct standard for the admea- 
surement of the characters of those who per- 
form them, Christopher Columbus could not 
fail to occupy, by universal consent, the loftiest 
station on the scale of greatness: for, by the 
sternest of his persecutors and the bitterest oi" 
•his enemies, were they now living, it could not 
be denied, that the affairs and general condition 
of mankind have been already more extensively 
and permanently modified by the discovery of 
America, than by any other event recorded in 
history. Nor have the effects of this discovery 
been as yet experienced in their final amount. 
The great work is still in progress; and what 
the issue of it may be, at some distant period, 
when the whole of the new world shall have 
been inhabited for centuries by civilized man, 
it belongs not to the foresight of mortals to dis- 
cern. Calculation is confounded, and conjec- 

A 



LIFE OF COJ.UMBTJS. 



ture itself lost in the vastness and variety of the 
prospect." 

Christopher Columbus, a native of the re- 
public of Genoa, was born in the year 1447. 
His ancestors, having had recourse to a sea- 
jaring life for support, Columbus, at an early 
age, discovered such peculiar talents for that 
profession, as indicated his future greatness. 
Ilis parents encouraged his original propensity 
by giving him a suitable education. After ac- 
quiring a knowledge of the Latin tongue, the 
only language through the medium of which 
learning and science were at that time incul- 
cated, he was instructed in geometr}^ cosmogra- 
phy, astronomy, and the art of drawing. To 
these he applied with sucb- ardour and attach- 
ment, on account of their connexion with navi- 
gation, his ftwourite object, that he made rapid 
proficiency in them. ~ — 

At the age of fourteen he went to sea, and 
tliough his first voyages were confined to the 
Mediterranean, yet he very soon ventured out 
on the northern seas, and visited the coasts of 
Iceland, to which the English and other nations 
resorted on account of its fishery. About the 
year 1467, he entered into the service of a sea 
captain of his own name and family, and spent 
some years in a predatory warfare against the 
Mahometans and Venetians, the rivals of his 
country in trade. In this situation he continued 
acquiring both wealth and reputation, till at 
length in an obstinate engagement with some 
Venetian vessels, otf the coast of Portugal, the 



LIFE OF COLUMBUS. S 

ship in which he served took fire, and he, with 
difficulty, preserved his hie by throwing himself 
into the sea, and swimming a distance of two 
leagues to the shore. As soon as he had re- 
covered strength for the journey, he repaired 
to Lisbon, where his brother Bartholomew had 
settled, and where he found many of his coun- 
trymen, who, like himself, had embarked in the 
sea service. Here his merit and talents were 
soon appreciated ; and here he married the 
daughter of Perestrello, a chosen follower of 
prince Henry of Portugal, and a naval charac- 
ter of high celebrity, who had been himself con- 
cerned in the discovery of Madeira, Porto Santo, 
and other islands. Columbus got possession of 
the journals and charts of this experienced na- 
vigator, and from them he learned the course 
which the Portuguese had held in making their 
discoveries, as well as the various circumstances 
which guided and encouraged them in their at- 
tempts. While he contemplated the labours of 
his father-in-law, and read the description of the 
countries which he had seen, his own impatience 
to visit them became irresistible. To indulge it 
he made a voyage to Madeira, and for several 
years traded with that island, with the Canaries, 
the Azores, the settlements in Guinea, and all 
other places which the Portuguese had disco- 
vered on the continent of Africa. 

By the experience acquired during such a 
variety of voyages, Columbus became one of the 
most skilful navigators of Europe. But his am- 
bition did not permit him to rest satisfied with 



4 lilTE OF COLUMBUS. 

that praise. A project had been conceived ol" 
finding out a passage by sea to tlie East Indies. 
The accomplishment of this became a favourite 
object with Columbus. The scheme of the Por- 
tuguese was to open a route to India by passing 
round the south point of Africa, the possibility 
of reaching it by steering to the west having 
never been agitated even as a subject of conjec- 
ture, until it occurred to the fertile mind of Co- 
lumbus — a grand and most felicitous thought^ 
whicli led to the discovery of another world. 

The principles and arguments which induced 
him to adopt this opinion, then considered as 
chimerical, were highly rational and philosophi- 
cal. The sphericity and magnitude of the earth, 
were at that period ascertained with some de- 
gree of accuracy. From this it was evident 
that the continents of Europe, Asia,- and Africa, 
formed but a small part of the terraqueous globe. 
It appeared likewise extremely probable, that 
the continent on the one side of the globe, was 
balanced by a proportionable quantity of land in 
the other hemisphere. These conclusions con- 
cerning the existence of another continent, drawn 
from the figure and structure of the globe, 
were confirmed by the observations and conjec- 
tures of modern 'navigators, and from pieces of 
timber aitificially carved, canes of an unusual 
size, large uprooted trees, and the dead bodies 
of two men, differing exceedingly in features 
and complexion from the natives of Europe and 
Africa, which had been discovered and taken up 
floating before a westerly wind, or driven on the 



I.lFll OF tOLl-MBl S. 



coasts ol' the Azores. The force of this united 
evidence, arising from theoretical principles and 
practical observations, led Columbus to con- 
clude, that by sailing directly towards the west, 
across the Atlantic ocean, new countries, which 
probably formed a part of the vast continent of 
India, must infallibly be discovered. 

As early as the year 1474, he connnunicated 
his ingenious theory to Paul Foscannelli, a learn- 
ed physician of Florence. He warndy approved 
of the plan; suggested several facts in confirma- 
tion of it, and encouraged Colutnbus to perse- 
vere in an undertaking so laudable, and which 
must redound so much to the honour of his 
country, and the benefit of Europe. 

Having established his theoiy and formed his 
design, he became anxious to procure the pa- 
tronage and support of some European power 
capable of undertaking so important an enter- 
prise. With this view, he laid his scheme be- 
ibre the senate of Genoa, and making his na- 
tive and beloved country the first tender of his 
service, oftered to sail, under the banners of the 
republic, in quest of new regions, which he ex- 
pected to discover. But they, incapable of form- 
ing just ideas of his principles, inconsiderately 
rejected his proposal as chimerical. He then 
submitted his plan to the Portuguese, who per- 
tidiously attempted to rob him of the honour of 
accomplishing it, by privately sending another 
person to pursue the same track which he had 
proposed. But the pilot, who was thus basely 
employed to execute Columbus' plan, had neither 
a2 



6 tlFE 01' CfOtrMBUS. 

the genius nor the fortitude of its author. Con- 
trary winds arose — no land appeared — his cour- 
age failed, and he returned to Lisbon, execrating 
a plan which he had not abilities to execute. 

On discovering this flagrant treachery, Co- 
lumbus immediately quitted the kingdom in dis- 
gust, and landed in Spain, towards the close of 
the year 1484. Here he resolved to propose it 
in person to Ferdinand and Isabella, who at that 
time governed the united kingdoms of Castile 
and Arragon; and, that no effort towards the 
accomplishment of his object might be wanting, 
he, at the same time, despatched his brother 
Bartholomew to England, to solicit the patron- 
age of Henry VH. 

After experiencing, during eight tedious years, 
a series of mortifying^ disappointments, occasion- 
ed by the ignorance, the evil passions, and, above 
all, the interests of those around him, he in deep 
anguish withdrew from court, determined to re- 
pair to England as his last resource. At this 
juncture the affairs of Spain, which had been 
perplexed in consequence of a war with the 
Moors, took a favourable turn. Q,uiutaniiia and 
Santangel, two powerful, vigilant and discerning 
patrons of Columbus, seized this favourable op- 
portunity to make one more effort in belialf of 
their friend. They addressed themselves to Isa- 
bella with such forcible arguments as produced 
the desired effect. The queen^s doubts and fears 
were dispelled, and she ordered Columbus, who 
had entered on his journey, to be instantly re- 
called, declared her resolution to employ him 



LIFE OF COJLUMBUS. 7 

on his own terms, and regretting the low state 
of her linances, generously offered to pledge her 
own jewels, in order to raise as much money as 
might be needed in making preparations for the 
voyage. Santangel, in order to save iier from 
having recourse to such a mortifying expedient 
for procuring money, engaged to advance, im- 
mediately, the sum that was requisite. In the 
spring of 1492, a treaty was signed with Colum- 
bus, by which Ferdinand and Isabella, the sove- 
reigns of Spain, appointed him their high admi- 
ral in all the seas he should discover, and their 
viceroy in all the islands and continents. They 
granted him and his heirs a tentli of ail the pro- 
fits that should accrue fiom the enterprise, WMth 
some other important advantages. As soon as 
the treaty was signed, Isabella, by her activity 
and attention in forwarding the preparations for 
the voyage, endeavoured to make some repara- 
tion to Columbus for the time which he had lost 
in fruitless solicitation. 

On the third of August, 1492, Columbus set 
sail, with three small ships and ninety men; an 
armament, suitable neither to tlie dignity of the 
power who equipped it, nor to tiie importance 
of the service to which it was destined. The 
sum expended in fitting out this squadron did 
not exceed sfe'4000 sterling. He had already, in 
the most public manner, implored the guidance 
and protection of Heaven, and on the morning 
of his departure the shores were crowded with 
spectators, who sent up their supplications to the 
Almighty for the prosperous issue of the voyage. 



8 LIFE OF COLUMBLS. 

Columbus steered directly for the Canaries, 
where, on account of the ill condition of the 
ships, he was obliged to refit. Having supplied 
himself with fresh provisions, he sailed from Go- 
mera, one of the most westerly of the Canary 
islands, on the sixth day of September, and here 
properly commenced the voyage of discovery. 
lie held his course due west, and immediately 
left the usual track of navigation, and stretched 
into unknown and unfrequented seas, with no 
other guide than well founded hopes and ra- 
tional conjectures. 

Scarcely had he lost sight of the Canaries, 
when several of his men exhibited signs of con- 
sternation bordering on despair. He comforted 
them with the vast wealth which was to be found 
in those regions whithei' he was conducting, and 
in his own person he set such an example of 
patience and industry, as could not fail of ex- 
citing the admiration of those about him. Scarce- 
ly did he allow himself time for necessary refresh- 
ments: he regulated every thing; he superin- 
tended the execution of every order, and kept 
the deck with the sounding line or instrument 
ibr observation perpetually in his hand, and 
noting down every unusual appearance with the 
utmost accuracy and precision. It was now that 
for the iirst time the magnetic needle was seen 
to swerve from its polar direction. This event, 
which disquieted not a little even Columbus him- 
self, was regarded by his followers as a certain 
manifestation of the anger of Heaven. Nature 
heiself, they said, was frowning on their temerity. 



LIFE OF COLUAIBUS. 



Columbus, with no less quickness than inge- 
nuity, invented a reason for this appearance, 
which, though it did not satisfy himself, seemed 
so plausible to them, that it dispelled, for a time, 
their fears, and silenced their murmurs. 

Three weeks had they traversed the ocean, 
and had proceeded to a distance which Colum- 
bus thought it prudent to conceal, when his men 
became mutinous, and even threatened to throw 
their admiral overboard, should he persist in an 
undertaking which they supposed must prove 
fatal to them all. He succeeded for the present 
in quieting their apprehensions, but in a few 
days they became more violent, declaring that 
nothing should induce them to proceed in so 
mad an enterprise. After trying eveiy means 
of persuasion in vain, he at length promised to 
direct his course homewards within three days, 
should not land be discovered. This proposi- 
tion did not appear unreasonable to the men, and 
to the commander it appeared sufficiently safe, 
for the presages of discovering land by the flight 
of birds, &,c. vv^ere now so numerous and pro- 
mising, that he deemed them infallible. From 
a variety of symptoms, Columbus was so confi- 
dent of being near land, that on the evening of 
the eleventh of October, after the usual invoca- 
tions to Heaven for success, he ordered the sails 
to be furled, and the ships to lie to, keeping the 
strictest watch, lest they should be driven on 
shore. During this interval of suspense and ex- 
pectation, no man shut his eyes; all kept upon 
deck, gazing intently towards that quarter where 



10 LIFE OF COLUMBt'S. 

land was expected to be discovered. At ten 
o'clock, Columbus, standing on the forecastle, 
observed a light at a distance: he pointed it out 
to another, and he again to a third person; all 
three saw it in motion, and at midnight there 
was heard from the foremost vessel the joyful 
sound of land! land! Having, however, been 
frequently deceived by false appearances, every 
man was slow of belief, and waited in all the 
anguish of uncertainty and impatience for the 
return of day. Wlien the morning dawned their 
doubts were dispelled, and an island was seen 
ab^ut two leagues to the north, whose verdant 
fields, well stored with wood, and watered with 
many rivulets, presented the aspect of a delight- 
ful country. Thanksgivings were instantly of- 
fered to Heaven: never was gratitude more sin- 
cere, never were the expressions of joy more ar- 
dent, tlian those which proceeded from every 
tongue. Their duty to God was followed by an 
act of justice to their commander. They threw 
themselves at the feet of Columbus, with feel- 
ings of self-condemnation, mingled with reve- 
rence, entreating pardon for their past conduct; 
and now they regarded as the favourite of Hea- 
ven, the man wliom they lately reviled as a vi- 
sionary and impostor. iNo sooner had the sun 
tinged with his rays the sliores of the newly 
discovered island, than their boats were manned 
and armed. As they approached the coast with 
colours, music, and martial grandeur, they saw 
it covered with a multitude of people, whom the 
novelty of the spectacle had drawn together. 



lalPJi OF COLtMBlS. Il 

whose attitudes and gestures expressed wonder 
and astonishment at tlie strange objects which 
presented themselves to tlieir view. The land 
proved to be one of the Bahama islands, named 
afterwards by (.olumbus, San Salvador: he was 
the first European who set foot in the new 
world which he liad discovered, and he took so- 
lemn possession of it for the crown of Castile 
and Leon, with all the formalities which the 
Portuguese were accustomed to observe in acts 
of this kind, in their new discoveries. The Spa- 
niards, while thus employed, were sun'ounded 
by many innocent and unsuspecting natives, who 
gazed in silent and awful admiration upon ac- 
tions which they could not comprehend, and of 
which they could not foresee the direful conse- 
quences. Towards the evening, Columbus re- 
turned to his ships, accompanied by many of the 
islanders in their canoes. " Thus,^' says Dr. 
Robertson, "in the first interview between the 
inhabitants of the old and new worlds, every 
thing was conducted amicably, and to their mu- 
tual satisfaction. The former, enlightened and 
ambitious, formed already vast ideas with respect 
to the advantages which they might derive from 
the regions that began to open to their view; the 
latter, simple and undiscerning, had no foresight 
of the calamities and desolation v/hich were ap- 
proaching their country." 

From San Salvador, Columbus proceeded on 
other discoveries. He saw several islands, and 
touched at three of the largest; on which he be- 
stowed the names of St. Mary of the Concep- 



12 X.IFE OF COtlMBUS. 

tion, Ferdinanda, and Isabella. He visited also 
Cuba and Hispaniola. Wherever he went he 
inquired for gold, and having obtained a certain 
quantity of the precious metal, and made other 
arrangements, he took his departure homewards. 
He encountered a violent tempest, in which he 
had nearly lost his ships. While all on board 
were overwhelmed with a sense of personal dan- 
ger, Columbus was only anxious for the means 
of preserving a record of his great discoveries. 
Retiring to his cabin, he wrote an account of 
what he had seen and done, which he covered 
with wax, enclosed in a tight cask, and commit- 
ted to the sea, with proper direction, hoping that 
it might be fortunately landed on some Euro- 
pean shore. The storm, however, ceased, and 
in a few days he found himself approaching the 
Azores. Here he obtained provisions, and re- 
newed his voyage. When he was almost within 
sight of the Spanish coast, another storm arose, 
that forced him to take shelter in the Tagus, 
from whence he proceeded to Lisbon, where, 
in the presence of the king of Portugal, he nar- 
rated every thing that he had done and seen. 
Columbus remained at Lisbon but five days, and 
on the fifteenth of March he arrived in the port 
of Palos, seven months and eleven days from the 
time when he set out tiicnce. As soon as his 
ship was discovered, the inhabitants ran eagerly 
to the shore, to welcome their relations and 
fellow citizens, and to learn the tidings of their 
voyage. Columbus repaired to the court, then 
at Barcelona, where he was received with all 



lAi'E OF e»LUM>BLS. 13 

the respect and honour due to his great achieve- 
nents. Every mark of attention that gratitude 
Dr admiration could suggt^st was conferred upon 
lim. All his stipulated privileges were confirm- 
ed; his family was ennobled; and, which was 
Tiost satisfactory to his active mind, another ar- 
nament was immediately fitted out for him, 
rhis consisted of 17 ships, and about 1500 per- 
sons; of whom a large number were men of dis- 
inction, destined to settle in the newly disco- 
ered countries. 

On the twenty-fifth day of September, 14&3. 
Columbus sailed on his second voyage from 
Jadiz. He first reached the Caribbee or Lee- 
vard islands, which he visited, and then pro- 
ceeded to Ilispaniola, where he had left a small 
garrison of his own men, but who had been cut 
)ff, probably from misconduct on their own 
)arts, by the natives. Instead of wasting his 
ime in punishing past wrongs, Columbus took 
)recautions for preventing any future injury, 
^^^ith this view he built a small town, which he 
lamed Isabella, in honour of his royal patroness. 
^Vhile some were employed in the necessary 
)perations of building, he sent others to explore 
he interior of the country, in the hope of find- 
ng gold. The hardships to which the Spaniards 
vere obliged to submit, rendered them impatient 
►f control, and it was with the utmost difficulty 
hat Columbus could maintain any subordina- 
ion. Signs of mutiny were every where exhi- 
)ited; and to the commander was imputed the 
nost unworthy motives, by persons from whose 

B 



14 LIFE OF COLUMBUS. 

rank in society better and more rational conduct 
might have been i^ expected. Having, however, 
by prudence and vigour allayed the ferment, he 
left his brother Diego as governor of the settle- 
ment, and proceeded with a squadron in quest 
of new discoveries. -- During a tedious voyage of 
five months, in which he endured every hard- 
ship, he discovered only the island of Jamaica. 

v^But on his return to Hispaniola, he had the sa- 
tisfaction of finding' there his brother Barthold^ 
mew, whom he had not seen for a long period, 
and who had brought with him a large supply 
of provisions and men. About this time the na- 
tive Indians, perceiving that the yoke imposed 
upon them by the invaders would prove intole-*^ 
rable, resolved, if possible, to free themselves^ 
from so dreadful an evil. ^Hostilities were com- 
menced, and much blood was shed on both sides; 
but in the event the Indians were completely de- 
feated. The consternation with which the In- 
dians were filled by the noise and havoc made 
by the fire-arms, by the impetuous force of the 
cavalry, and the fierce onset of twenty large 
dogs trained for the purpose, was so great, that 
they threw down their weapons, and fied with- 
out attempting farther resistance.'" Many were 
slain, more wav^ taken prisoners, and reduced"^ 

_ to a state of the most humiliating servitude; a 
rigorous tax was imposed upon them of gold, 
which was the dearest object of European am- 
bition, and which was now become necessary to j 
plead the cause of Columbus in Spain, where 'j 
numerous accusations had been laid against his 



LIFE OF COLUMHUS. 15 

eonduct. Willing, however, to meet the charges 
in person, he invested his brother Bartholomew 
with full power of government during his ab- 
sence, and then set sail. He arrived in Spain in 
1476, and innnediately appeared at court, with 
the modest but determined conlidence of a man, 
conscious not only of his own integrity, but of 
having performed many very eminent services 
for the state, in whose employment he had em- 
barked. The dignity of his conduct silenced 
his enemies; and, with the assistance of the gold 
and precious commodities w^hich he had brought 
with him, he recovered the good opinion of his 
sovereigns. They resolved to make every exer- 
tion to render the new colony a permanent and 
complete establishment, by sending out such re- 
inforcements as Columbus thought necessary 
for the purpose. 

It was not, however, till late in the spring of 
1498, that he was enabled to proceed on his 
third voyage; during which he discovered Tri- 
nidad, at the mouth of the Oronoco. The vast 
size of this river, though only ranking in the 
third or fourth magnitude of rivers in the new 
world, convinced him that it must have its rise 
in a great continent. He even touched upon 
various parts of the continent, without suspect- 
ing it, conceiving that they belonged to islands 
wiiich he had not leisure to explore. Columbus 
arrived at Hispaniola in August, where he found 
that his brother had reujoved the colony to St. 
Domingo, on the opposite side of the island. 
During his absence, a mutiny had been excited, 



16 J.IVE OF COLCMBl-'S. 

and some of his people had seceded i'roni the 
main body. To calm the discontent, he gave 
them allotments of land, to wliich were annexed 
distributions of natives, that proved to them an 
intolerable source of oppression. New com- 
plaints were secretly transmitted to court against 
him and his brothers; and having no opportu- 
nity of vindicating his conduct, his powers were 
at first greatly abridged by a separate commis- 
sion of discovery having been granted to Al- 
phonso d'Ojeda; who was accompanied in his 
voyage by Amerigo Vespucci, after whom the 
new world has since been named. Columbus 
was then recalled, and Francis de Bovadilla ap- 
pointed in his stead. By his unworthy and inso- 
lent successor, Columbus was thrown in chains, 
and treated with other indignities, which have 
for ever disgraced the court that granted to him 
so much power. The captain of the ship, to 
whose charge Columbus was given, offered, in 
the most respectful manner, to liberate him, but 
he indignantly refused to suffer his chains to be 
removed, but by the express command of his 
sovereigns. On his arrival in Spain, he was in- 
stantly set at liberty, and treated with that civi- 
lity and kindness from the king and queen which 
he had formerly experienced. Bovadilla was 
disgraced, but Columbus could not forget the 
injuries which he had sustained; he continued 
afterwards to carry these fetters with him where- 
ever he went — they hung in his chamber, and 
he ordered them to be laid with his body in the 
grave. 



LI IE OF COLUMBUS. 17 

In 1502, he obtained permission to make a 
fourth voyage, and on arriving off St. Domingo, 
he found a fleet of 18 ships, richly laden, ready to 
depart for th-e continent of Europe. His own 
experience led him to perceive an approaching 
storm; he accordingly requested permission to 
enter the harbour, and at the same time warned 
the fleet of the dangers to which it would infalli- 
bly be exposed by sailing at that juncture. His 
request and advice were both disiegarded. Ttie 
tempest came on, and though, by proper precau- 
tions, he saved his own vessels, it fell upon the 
fleet with so much violence, that only two or 
(hrce vessels escaped; and Bovadilla, with seve- 
ral others of his most inveterate enemies, pe- 
rished with all theii- ill-gotten wealtli. Among 
the vessels that weathered the storm, was that 
on which the remnant of the admiral's fortune 
was embarked. 

In pursuing his voyage, he traced the coast of 
Darien, in hopes of discovering a strait, which 
he fondly imagined would open a new track to 
the East Indies. Although he was disappointed 
ill iiis expectations, he was, nevertheless, so 
much delighted with the fertility of tlie country, 
and conceived such an idea of its wealth, from 
the specimens of gold produced by the natives, 
tfiat he resolved to leave a small colony upon 
the river Belem, in the province of Perague, 
under the command of his brother, and to re- 
turn to Spain, to procure the means requisite 
(or rendering the establishment permanent. On 
his voyage, he was driven back by a violent 
b2 



18 J.itK Ul COJXMlitsi. 

tempest from the coast of Cuba, his ships iell 
foul of one another, and were so much shattered 
by the shock, that with the utmost difficuhy they 
reached Jamaica. Here he endured the great- 
est calamities, as well from the mutinous dispo- 
sitions of his own men, as from the suspicions of 
the natives, who refused to supply hinj with pro- 
visions, till, by his skill in astronomy, he predict- 
ed the event of an approaching echpse, a circum- 
stance that gave him an irresistible authority 
over their minds. From this time he was great- 
ly venerated by the natives, who not only fur- 
nished him profusely with provisions, but cau- 
tiously avoided every thing that could give him 
oifence. Columbus was at length dehvered by 
a fleet sent from Hispaniola; and, after various 
difficulties, he arrived at St. Lucar, in Spain, in 
December, 1 504. Here, in addition to his other 
sufferings, he learned that his patroness, Isa- 
bella, was dead: from her alone he anticipated 
the redress of his wrongs, which he little ex- 
pected from the king. To him, however, as the 
last resort, he applied, who amused him with 
promises, but who, instead of granting his claims, 
insulted him with the proposal of renouncing 
them all for a very limited pension. 

Disgusted with the ingratitude of a monarch 
whom he had served with fidelity and success; 
exhausted with the calamities which he had en- 
dured, and broken with the infirmities which 
these brought upon him, Columbus, having in- 
dignantly withdrawn himself from court, ex- 
pired at Valladolid, on the twentieth of May, 



LIFK OF COLUMBUS. l\f 

1506, in the fifty-ninth year of his age. In his 
last moments he exhibited a dignified compo- 
sure a'lid serenity of mind suitable to the great- 
]iess of his character, and to those sentiments of 
piety which he had ever cherished in all the 
trials to which his life had been exposed. Fer- 
dinand, who had slighted his well founded claims 
when living, bestowed on him distinguished fu- 
neral honours, and confirmed to his descendants 
their hereditary rights. This illustrious man is 
buried in the cathedral at Seville, where a mo- 
nument is erected to his memory, on whicli is 
inscribed the following epitaph, " Here lies 
Columbus, who gave to Xastile and Leon a 
new world;" the most exalted eulogy, yet per- 
fectly just, that ever mortal has meiited or re- 
ceived. 

In the character of Columbus were combined 
the qualities which constitute greatness. He 
possessed a lofty, comprehensive and well cul- 
tivated mind. He was fond of great enterprises, 
and capable of prosecuting them with the most 
unwearied patience. He surmounted difficul- 
ties, which would have entirely discouraged per- 
sons of less firmness and constancy of spirit. 
His invention extricated him from many per- 
plexities, and his prudence enabled him to con- 
ceal or subdue his own infirmities, whilst he 
took advantage of the passions of others. No 
man, perhaps, ever possessed in a higher degree 
the important art of rendering others subser'- 
vient to his purposes, or of adapting his conduct 
to the nature of emergencies — commanding or 



LIFE t)F COLUMBUS. 

conceding, temporizing or acting with vigour, 
as circumstances required. He was, moreovei, 
a man of undaunted courage. 

Columbus was of a lofty stature, a long visage, 
and a majestic aspect: his nose was aquiline, his 
eyes grey, and his complexion clear and some- 
what ruddy. He was a man of wit and pleasan- 
try, in his habits sociable, and in his conversa- 
tion elegant and refined. His presence attracted 
respect, having an air of authority and grandeur. 
In his diet he was plain, in his drink temperate, 
and in his days rich but not ostentatious. 

He was ever faithful to the ungrateful mo- 
narch whom he served, and whose dominions 
he enlarged. His magnanimity and benevolence 
were constantly extended to those within his 
sphere. 

Justinianus, in his edition of the Polyglot 
Psalter, 1516, of which a beautiful copy is pre- 
served in the Cracherode Collection in the Bri- 
tish Museum, has introduced, by way of com- 
mentary on Psalm xix. 4, " their words are gone 
forth to the ends of the earth," a very curious 
sketch of the life of Columbus, on account of 
Ills discovery of America, and also a description 
of the inhabitants, particularly of the female na- 
tive Americans. 



LiFE or VESPtM'irs. 21 



VESPUTIUS. 

Ameuicus Vesputius, (more correctly Ame- 
rigo Vespucci,) a Florentine gentleman, from 
whom America derives its name, was born in 
the year 1451, of an ancient and respectable fa- 
mily. His father, who was an Italian merchant, 
brought him up in this business, and his profes- 
sion led him to visit Spain and several other 
countries. Being eminently versed in the sci- 
ences and arts subservient to navigation, and 
possessing an enterprising spirit, he became de- 
sirous of visiting the new world, which Colum- 
bus had discovered in 1492. He accordingly 
entered as a merchant on board a small fleet of 
four ships, equipped by the merchants of Se- 
ville, and sent out under the command of Ojeda. 
The enterprise was sanctioned by a royal li- 
cense. 

Vesputius, according to his own account, sail- 
ed from Cadiz on the 20th of May, 1497, and 
returned to the same port, October the 15th, 
1498; having in the interim discovered the coast 
of Paria, and penetrated as far as the Gulf of 
Mexico. If this statement be correct, he saw 
the continent before Columbus, who did not 
discover it till 1498; but its coirectness is con- 
troverted, and there exist strong grounds of be- 
lief that the date of Ojeda's first voyage was 
1499. 

During this adventm-e. so rapidly did Vespu- 



Z"2 LIFE OF VKSPITIUS. 

tius improve in the science of navigation and 
the art of practical seamanship, as to gain the 
reputation of an able captain; and he seems to 
have acquired such authority among his compa- 
nions, that they considered him as having tlie 
principal share in directing their operations du- 
ring the voyage. 

Vesputius dates the commencement of his se- 
cond voyage, under the auspices of Ferdinand 
and Isabella, in which he commanded six ships^ 
on the 11th of May, 1499. Re proceeded first 
to tlie Antilles, thence to the coast of Guiana 
and Venezuela, and returned to Cadiz in the 
month of November, 1 500. He retired to Se- 
ville, receiving little acknowledgment from the 
Spaniards for his services, and was deeply af- 
fected by their ingratitude. 

Emanual, king of Portugal, who was jealous 
of the success and glory of Spain, and ambitious 
to become her rival in the career of adventure, 
on receiving information of the neglect and in- 
justice which Vesputius had experienced, and 
Jiis dissatisfaction on account of them, invited 
him to his court, and gave him the command of 
three ships, to make a third voyage of disco- 
very. He sailed from Lisbon on the 10th of 
May, 1501, and ran down the coast of Afiica 
as far as Angola, and then passed over to Bra- 
zil in South America, and continued his disco- 
veries to the south as far as Patagonia. He then 
returned by the way of Sieri'a Leone and the 
coast of Guinea, and entered again the port of 
Lisbon on the 7th of September, 1502. 



LIFE OF VESPtTIL'S. 



King Emanual, eminently gratified by liis suc- 
cess, equipped for him six ships, witii wliicli he 
sailed on his fourth and last voyage, May 10, 
1503. The discovery of a western passage to 
the Molucco islands was the particular object of 
this adventure. He passed tlie coast of Africa, 
and entered the bay of All Saints in Brazil. 
Having provisions on board for only 20 months, 
and being detained on the coast of Brazil by 
bad weather and contrary winds five montiis, he 
formed the resolution of returning to Portugal, 
where he arrived on the 14th of June, 1504-. 
Notwithstanding his failure in relation to the 
contemplated object of his voyage, he experi- 
enced a kind and favourable reception, on ac- 
count of the quantities of Brazil wood and other 
articles of value with which he was freighted. 

It was soon after this period, that Vesputius 
wrote an account of his four voyages. The 
work was dedicated to Rene H. duke of Lor- 
raine, who took the title of king of Sicily, and 
who died on the 10th of December, 1508. It 
was published about the year 1507; and in that 
year he again retired to Seville, and received 
from Ferdinand of Spain the appointment of de- 
Hneator of sea charts, under the title of chief 
pilot of the kingdom. He died at the island of 
Tercera, in 1514, aged about sixty-three years. 

As he published the first chart of the conti- 
nent, and asserted in his narrative that he saw it 
as early as the year 1497, the new world has re- 
ceived from him the name of America. His 
pretensions, however, to this first discovery, do 



24 LIPE OF VliSPUTIUS. 

not seem to be well supported against the claims 
of Columbus, to whom the honour is uniformly 
ascribed by the Spanish historians, and who first 
saw the continent in 1498. 

Herrara, whose reputation for veracity is held 
unimpeachable, and who is understood to have 
compiled his general history of America from 
the most authentic records, says, that Vesputius 
never made but two voyages to the new Avorld — 
both of them with Ojeda; the first in 1499, and 
the second in 1501; and that his relation of his 
other voyages was proved to be a mere imposi- 
tion. This charge needs to be confirmed by 
strong proof, for Vesputius published his book 
within ten years of the period assigned for his 
first voyage, when the facts must have been fresh 
in the memories of thousands. Besides the im- 
probability of his being guilty of falsifying dates, 
as he was accused, wiiich arises from this cir- 
cumstance, it is very possible, that the Spanish 
writers might have felt a national resentment 
against him, for having deserted the service of 
Spain. But the evidence against his claims to 
the discovery of the western continent is very 
convincing. Neither Martyr nor Benzoni, who 
were Italians, natives of the same country, and 
the former his own cotemporary, attribute to 
him the first discovery of the continent. Mar- 
tyr published the first general history of the new 
world, and his epistles contain an account of 
every remarkable event of the time. Ojeda him- 
self, the commander of the first voyage in which 
Vesputius was engaged, appears to have de- 



LIFE OF VESFUTIUS. 25 

posed on oath, in the course of judicial inquiry, 
.that he did not sail till 1499. Nor is this all: 
Fonesca, who gave Ojeda the license for his 
voyage, was not reinstated in the direction of 
! Indian affairs until after the time which Yespu- 
jtius assigns for the commencement of his first 
i voyage. Other circumstances might be men- 
Itioned; and the whole mass of evidence it is diffi- 
cult to resist. Yesputius, moreover, had the ad- 
dress not to publish his narrative, wherein he 
asserts his claim to the discovery of the new 
continent, till about a year after the death of 
Columbus, when his pretensions could be ad- 
vanced without fear of refutation from that il- 
lustrious navigator. His narrative was drawn 
up not only with much art, but with some ele- 
jgance. It contained judicious observations upon 
the natural productions, the inhabitants, and the 
customs of the countries which he had visited. 
As it was the first description of any part of the 
western continent that was published, a perform- 
ance so well calculated to gratify the passion of 
mankind for what is new and marvellous, cir- 
'culated rapidly, and was read with admiration. 
The country of which Vesputius was supposed 
to be the discoverer, came gradually to be called 
by his name. The unaccountable caprice of 
mankind has perpetuated the error; so that now 
by the universal consent of all nations, this new 
quarter of the globe is called America. The 
Iname of Americus has supplanted that of Co- 
jumbus, and mankind are left to regret an act 

c 



-O hlEE OF J. CABOT. 

of injustice, vyhich, having been sanctioned by 
time, they can never redress. 

But even admitting Vesputius to have been 
the fortunate European who first gained sight of 
the new continent, it may, notwithstanding, be 
contended, on grounds which are perfectly solid 
and tenable, that that event did not entitle him 
to bestow on it his name. In whatever he 
achieved, in the career of maritime enterprise, 
he was, strictly speaking, a dependent on Co- 
lumbus. Had not that great adventurer first 
opened a passage across the Atlantic, and in- 
structed others to follow his course, neither Ves- 
putius nor the Cabots would ever, perhaps, have 
ventured a hundred leagues from the coast of 
Europe. Therefore, to Columbus alone, be- 
longed the honour of bestowing his name on 
the continent of the west. 



J. CABOT. 

John Cabot, a Venetian, who first discovered 
the continent of North America, was perfectly 
skilkd in all the sciences requisite to form an 
accomplished mariner. He had three sons, 
Lewis, Sebastian, and Sanctius, all of whom he 
educated in a manner best calculated to make 
them able seamen. Encouraged by the success 
of Columbus, who returned in 1493 from his 
first voyage, he was determined to attempt the 
discoveiy of unknown lands, particularly of a 
northwest passage to the East Indies. 



LIFE OF J. CABOT. 27 

Having obtained a commission from king 
Henry VH. empowering him and his three sons 
to discover unknown lands, and to conquer and 
settle them, and giving him jurisdiction over the 
countries which he should subdue, on condition 
of paying the king one-fifth part of all the gains, 
lie sailed from Bristol with two vessels, freighted 
by the merchants of London and Bristol with ar- 
ticles of traffic, and with about three hundred 
men, in the beginning of May, 1497. He sailed 
towards the northwest till he reached the lati- 
tude of fifty-eight degrees, when the floating ice, 
which he met, and the severity of the weather, 
induced him to alter his course to the south- 
west. 

He discovered land in the morning of June 
24th; which, as it was the first that he had seen, 
lie called Prima Vista. This is generally sup- 
posed to be a part of the island of Newfound- 
land, though in the opinion of some it is a place 
on the peninsula of Nova Scotia, in the latitude 
of forty-five degrees. A few days afterward a 
smaller islanil was discovered, to which he gave 
the name of St. John, on account of its being 
discovered on the day of St. John the Baptist. 

Continuing his course westwardly, he soon 
reached the continent, and then sailed along the 
coast northwardly to the latitude of sixty-seven 
and a half degrees. As the coast stretched to- 
ward the east, he turned back, and sailed along 
the coast toward the equator, till he came to Flo- 
rida. The provisions now failing, and a mutiny 
breaking out among the mariners, he returned 



!28 liirE OF S. CABOT. 

to England without attempting a settlement or 
conquest in any part of the new world. 



S. CABOT. 



Sebastian Cabot, an eminent navigator, was 
the son of the preceding, and was born at Bristol. 
When about twenty years of age, he accompa- 
nied his father in the voyage of 1497, in which 
the continent of North America was discovered. 
About the year 1517, he sailed on another voy- 
age of discovery, and went to the Brazils, and 
thence to Hispaniola and Porto Rico. Failing 
in his object of finding a way to the East Indies, 
he returned to England. 

Having been invited to Spain, where he was 
received in the most respectful manner by king 
Ferdinand and queen Isabella, he sailed in their 
service on a voyage of discovery in April, 1525. 
He visited the coast of Brazil, and entered a 
great river, to which he gave the name of Rio 
de la Plata. He sailed up this river one hun- 
dred and twenty leagues. After being absent on 
this expedition a number of years, he returned 
to Spain in the spring of 1531. But he was not 
well received. His rigorous treatment of some 
mutineers, and other circumstances, had created ; 
him enemies. He however found means to re- 
tain the connnission of chief pilot, with which 
he had been honoured by Ferdinand. He made 
other voyages, of which no particular memorials 
remain. His residence was in the city of Se- 



LIFE OF S. CABOT. 29 

ville. His employment was the drawing of 
charts, on whicli he delineated all the new dis- 
coveries made by himself and others; and by his 
office he was entrusted with the reviewing of all 
projects for discovery. His character is said to 
have been gentle, friendly and social, though in 
some of his voyages a few instances of injustice 
towards the natives, and of severity towards his 
mariners, are recorded. 

In his advanced age he returned to England 
and resided at Bristol. He received a pension 
from king Edward VI., and was appointed go- 
vernor of a company of merchants, associated 
for the purpose of making discoveries of un- 
known coimtries. Me had a strong persuasion, 
that a passage might be found to China by tlie 
northeast. By his means a trade was com- 
menced with Russia, which gave rise to the Rus- 
sian Company. The last account which is found 
of him, is that in the year 1556, when the com- 
pany were sending out a vessel for discovery, he 
made a visit on board. "The good old gentle- 
man, Master Cabota," says the journal of the 
voyage in Hakluyt, " gave to the poor most libe- 
ral alms, wishing them to pray for the good for- 
tune and prosperous success of our pinnace. 
And then at the sign of St. Christopher, he and 
his friends banquetted, and for very joy, that he 
had to see the towardness of our intended dis- 
covery, he entered into the dance himself among 
the rest of the young and lusty company; which 
being ended, he and his friends departed, most 
c2 



LIFE OF CARTIKR. 



gently commending us to the governance of Al- 
mighty God." 

He died it is believed in 1557, aged 80 years. 
He was one of the most extraordinary men of 
the age in which he lived. There is preserved 
in Hakluyt, a complete set of instructions drawn 
and signed by Cabot, for the direction of the 
voyage to Cathay in China, which affords the 
clearest proof of his sagacity. He published, 
"^ Navigatione nelle parte Settentrionale," Ve- 
nice, 1583, folio. He published also a large 
map, which was engraved by Clement Adams, 
and hung up in the privy gallery at Whitehall; 
and on this map was inscribed a Latin account 
of the discovery of Newfoundland. 



CARTIER. 



James Cartier, a French navigator, who 
made important discoveries in Canada, was a 
native of St. Malo. After the voyage of the Ca- 
bots, the French learned the value of their disco- 
veries, and in a few years began the cod fishery 
upon the banks of Newfoundland. In 1 524, John 
Verazzani, a Florentine, in the service of France, 
explored the coast of the new continent from Flo- 
rida to Newfoundland. From a subsequent voy- 
age, in 1525, he never returned, and it is sup- 
posed that he fell a victim to savage barbarity. 
His fate discouraged any other attempts of dis- 
covery till the importance of having a colony in 



LIFJE OF CARTlElt. 31 

the neighbourhood of the fishing hanks, induced 
Francis I. to send out Cartier in the year 1534. 
He sailed from St. Malo on the 20th of April in 
this year, with two ships of sixty tons, and a hun- 
dred and twenty-two men. On the 10th of May 
lie came in sight of Bona Vista on the island of 
Newfoundland; hut the ice obliged him to go to 
the south, and he entered a harbour at tiie dis- 
tance of five leagues to which he gave the name 
of St. Catherine. As soon as the season w^ould 
permit, he sailed northward, and entered the 
straits of Belleisle. In this voyage he visited 
the greater part of the coast which surrounds 
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and took possession 
of the country in the name of the king. He dis- 
covered a bay which he called Bay de Chaleurs, 
on account of the sultry weather he experienced 
in it. He sailed so far into the great river, after- 
wards called the St. Lawrence, as to discover 
land on the opposite side. On the 15th of Au- 
gust he set sail on his return, and arrived at St. 
Malo on the 5th of September. 

When his discoveries were known in France, 
it was determined to make a settlement in that 
part of America which he had visited. Accord- 
ingly, in the following year, he received a more 
ample commission, and was equipped with three 
vessels. When he was ready to depart, he went 
to the cathedral church w ith his whole company, 
and the bishop gave him his benediction. 

He sailed on the 19th of May, 1535. He ex- 
perienced a severe storm on his passage, but in 
July he reached the destined port. He entered 



LIFE OF CAKTIER. 



the gulf as in the preceding year, being accom- 
panied by a number of young men of distinc- 
tion. He sailed up the St. Lawrence and dis- 
covered an island, which he named Bacchus, 
but which is now called Orleans, in the neigh- 
bourhood of Quebec. This island contained a 
number of inhabitants, who subsisted chiefly by 
fishing. He went on shore, and the natives 
brought him Indian corn for his refreshment. 
With his pinnace and two boats, he proceeded 
up the river as far as Hochelaga, a settlement 
upon an island, which he called Mont Royal, 
but which is now called Montreal. In this In- 
dian town were about fifty long huts, built with 
stakes, and covered witli bark. The people 
lived mostly by fishing and tillage. They had 
corn, beans, squashes and pumpkins. In a few 
days he set out on his return, and arrived at 
Port de St. Croix, not far from Quebec, on the 
4th of October. Here he passed the winter. 

In December the scurvy began to make its 
appearance among the natives, and in a short 
time Cartier's company were seized by the dis- 
order. By the middle of February, of one hun- 
dred and ten persons fifty were sick at once, 
and eight or ten had died. In this extremity 
he appointed a day of humiliation. A crucifix 
was placed on a tree, a procession of those who 
were able to walk was formed, and at the close 
of the devotional exercises, Cartier made a vow, 
that "if it should please God to permit him to 
return to France, he would go in pilgrimage to 
our lady of Koquemado." The sick were all 



LUE. OF CAIiTlER. 



healed by using a medicine which was employed 
with success by the natives. This was a decoc- 
tion of the leaves and bark of a tree. The li- 
quor was drunk every other day, and an exter- 
nal application was made to the legs. Charle- 
voix says the tree was that which yielded tur- 
pentine, and Dr. Belknap thinks it was the 
spruce pine. In May he set sail on his return 
to France, and arrived at St. Malo on the 6th 
of July, 1536. 

At the end of four years another expedition 
was projected. Francois de la Roque, lord of 
Roberval, w^as commissioned by the king as his 
lieutenant governor in Canada; and Cartier was 
appointed his pilot, with the command of five 
ships. Cartier sailed in the year 1540 or 1541, 
and a few leagues above St. Croix in the river 
St. Lawrence, he built a fort, which he called 
Charlebourg. In the spring of 154S, he deter- 
mined to return to France, and accordingly in 
June arrived at St. John^s in Newfoundland, on 
his way home. Here he met Roberval, who did 
not accompany him on his voyage, and who had 
been detained till this time. Cartier was ordered 
to return to Canada, but he chose to pursue his 
voyage to France, and sailed out of the harbour 
privately in the night. Roberval attempted to 
establish a colony, but it was soon broken up, 
and the French did not establish themselves per- 
manently in Canada till after the expiration of 
half a century. 

Cartier published memoirs of Canada after 
his second voyage. The names \^hic]i he gave 
to islands, rivers, &c. are now entirely changed. 



34 LIFE 01? SMlT^r. 



SMITH. 



John Smith, the founder of the colony of 
Virginia, was born in Lincolnshire, England, in 
the year 1579. He early discovered a romantic 
genius, and delighted in daring and extravagant 
actions. 

At the age of thirteen he sold his books and 
satchel to raise money in order to convey him- 
self privately to sea, but was prevented. Being 
an apprentice to a merchant, he quitted his mas- 
ter at the age of fifteen, and went into France 
and the Low Countries. After his return he 
studied military history and tactics, and having 
recovered a part of the estate which his father 
left him, he was enabled to set out again on his 
travels at the age of seventeen in a better con- 
dition than before. 

Having embarked at Marseilles for Italy with 
some pilgnn)s, a tempest obliged them to anchor 
near a small island off Nice. As his compa- 
nions attributed their unfavourable voyage to 
the presence of Smith, they threw the heretic 
into the sea; but by swimming he was enabled 
to reach the shore. After going to Alexandria, 
he entered into the service of the emperor of 
Austria against the Turks. By his exploits he 
soon obtained the command of two hundred and 
fifty horsemen. At the siege of Regal, the Ot- 
tomans sent a challenge, purporting that the 
lord Turbisha, to divert the ladies, would fight 
any captain of the Christian troops. Smith ac- 



LIFE OF SMITH. 55 

cepted it; and meeting his antagonist on horse- 
back, in view of the ladies on the battlements, 
killed him, and bore away his head. A second 
antagonist met the sajne fate. Smith then re- 
quested, that if the ladies wished for more diver- 
sion, another champion might appear. His head 
was added to the number of the others, though 
Smith narrowly escaped losing his own. 

Smith was afterwards taken prisoner; but by 
kilhng his tyrannical master he escaped into 
Russia. When he returned to England, he 
formed the resolution to seek adventures in 
North America. Having persuaded a number 
of gentlemen, in 1606, to obtain a patent of 
South Virginia, he engaged in the expedition, 
which was fitted out under the command of 
Christopher Newport, and arrived with the first 
emigrants who made a permanent settlement in 
the Chesapeake, April 26, 1607. 

A colony was begun at James Town, and the ^ 
government was in the hands of a council, of 
which Smith was a member. When Newport 
returned, more than a hundred persons were 
left in Virginia. They would probably have pe- 
rished with hunger, but for the exertions of 
Smith in procuring corn of the natives. When 
he could not effect his object by purchase, he 
would resort to stratagem or force. 

While exploring the Chickahominy river, he 
was taken prisoner, after having killed with his 
own hand three of the enemy. He was carried 
to the emperor Powhatan, who received him, 
clothed in a robe of rackoon skins, and seated 



LIFE OF SMITH. 



on a kind of throne, with two beautiful girls, his 
daughters, near him. After a long consultation, 
two large stones were brought in, and his head 
was laid upon one of them. At this moment, 
when the war clubs were lifted to despatch him, 
Pocahontas, the king's favourite daughter, shield- 
ed him from the blows, and by her entreaties 
saved his life. He was sent to James Town, 
where, by his resolution, address, and industry, 
he prevented the abandonment of the plantation. 

In the year 1608, he explored the whole coun- 
try from Cape Henry to the river Susquehanna, 
sailing about three thousand miles. On his re- 
turn, he drew a map of Chesapeake bay and of 
the rivers, from which all subsequent maps have 
been chiefly copied. 

In the year 1609, being much injured by an 
explosion of gunpowder, he returned to England 
for the benefit of medical assistance. In 1614, 
he ranged the coast of what was then called 
North Virginia, from Penobscot to Cape Cod, 
in an open boat, with eight men. On his return, 
he formed a map of the country, and desired 
prince Charles, afterwards " the royal martyr," 
to give it a name. By him it was for the first 
time called New England. After otiier adven- 
tures. Smith died in London, in the year 1631, 
m the fifty-second year of his age. For all his 
services and sufferings, he never received any 
recompense. The character of Smith is thus 
drawn by one of his friends and companions in 
adventure. " In all his proceedings he made 
justice his first guide, and experience his second; 



LIWB OF SMITH. 37 

hating baseness, sloth, pride, and indignity, more 
than any danger. He never would allow more 
for himself than for his soldiers; and upon no 
danger would send them where he would not 
lead them himself He would never see us want 
what he had, or could by any means get for us. 
He would rather want, than borrow; or starve, 
than not pay. He loved action more than words, 
and hated covetousness and falsehood worse than 
death." 

He published the Sixth Voyage made to Vir- 
ginia, 1606; the First Voyage to New England, 
with the old and new names, 1614; a relation 
of his Second Voyage to New England, 1615; 
a Description of New England, 1617; New 
England's Trials, declaring the Success of 2Q 
Ships, employed thither within these six Years, 
&c. 1620; the General History of Virginia, New 
England, and the Summer Isles, with the Names 
of the Adventurers, &c. from 1584 to 1626 — 
also the Maps and Descriptions of all those 
Countries, in six books, folio, 1627. His friend, 
Mr. Purchas, had publislied in his Pilgrims most 
of the narrative part before. The True Tra- 
vels, Adventures and Observations of Captain 
John Smith, in Europe, Asia, Africa and Ame- 
rica, from 1593 to 1629, folio, 1630. This is 
preserved entire in ChurchilFs Collections. Ad- 
vertisements for the inexperienced Planters of 
New England, 4to. 1630. 



B 



38 IIFE OF KOBINSON. 



ROBINSON. 



John Robinson, minister of the English 
church at Leyden, a part of which first settled 
New England in 1620, was born in Great Bri- 
tain in the year 1575, and educated at Cam- 
bridge. After holding for some time a benefice 
near Yarmouth, in Norfolk, when a society of 
dissenters was formed in the north of England 
about the year 1602, he was chosen their pas- 
tor with the reverend Mr. Clifton. Persecution 
drove his congregation into Holland in 1608, 
and he soon followed them. At Amsterdam, 
where they found emigrants of the same reli- 
gious sentiments, they remained about a year; 
but as the minister, Mr. John Smith, was un- 
steady in his opinions, Mr. Robinson proposed a 
removal to Leyden. Here they continued eleven 
years, and their numbers so increased, that they 
had in the church three hundred communicants. 
They were distinguished for perfect harmony 
among themselves and for friendly intercourse 
with the Dutch. 

Mr. Robinson, when he first went into Hol- 
land, w as a most rigid separatist from the church 
of England; but by conversation with Dr. Ames 
and Mr. Robert Parker, he was convinced of 
his error, and became more moderate, though 
he condemned the use of the liturgy and the in- 
discriminate admission to the sacraments. 

In 1617, when another removal was contem- 
plated, Mr. Robinson entered zealously into the 



LIFE OF ROBINSOX. 3Sf 

plan of making a settlement in America. His 
church was liable to be corrupted by the loose 
habits of the Dutch, and he wished it to be 
planted in a country where it might subsist in 
purity. The first settlers of Plymouth in 1620, 
who took with them Mr. Brewster, the ruling 
elder, were the members of his church, and it 
was his intention to follow them with the ma- 
jority, that remained; but various disappoint- 
ments prevented. He died March 1st, 1625, in 
the fiftieth year of his age, and in the height of 
his usefulness. A part of his church, and his 
widow and children, afterwards came to New 
England. He was a man of good genius, quick 
penetration, ready wit, great modesty, integrity, 
and candour. His classical learning, and acute- 
ness in disputation were acknowledged by his 
opponents. He was also discerning and prudent 
in civil affairs. Such was his liberality, that he 
esteemed all men that seemed to be truly pious, 
of whatever denomination. In his principles of 
church government he was himself an indepen- 
dent or congregationalist. 

In his farewell address to the first emigrants 
to New England, he reminded them, that nei- 
ther Lutlier nor Calvin could have penetrated 
Into the whole counsel of God; and being con- 
fident that the Lord had more truth to break 
forth from his holy word, exhorted them to be 
ready to receive it, without attachment to party. 
[But he enjoined it upon them to take heed what 
mey received as truth; to examine, to consider, 
jand compare it with other parts of scripture. 



40 riFB OF G. GAL\"ERT. 

He published a Defence of the Brownists; Jus- 
tification of the Separation from the Church of 
England; People's Plea for the Exercise of Pro- 
phesying, 1618; Essays, Moral and Divine, 1628. 



G. CALYERT, 

George Calvert, baron of Baltimore, and 
founder of the province of Maryland, was de- 
scended from a noble family in Flanders, and 
was born in Yorkshire, England, in the year 
1582. After taking his bachelor's degree at 
Trinity college, Oxford, in 1597, he travelled 
over the continent of Europe. At his return to 
England, in the beginning of the reign of James 
I., he was taken into the office of sir Robert 
Cecil, secretary of state, by whose favour he 
was made clerk of the privy council, and re- 
ceived the honour of knighthood. 

In the year 1619, he was appointed one of 
the principal secretaries of state in the room of 
sir Thomas Lake. His great knowledge of pub- 
lic business, and his diligence and fidelity, con- 
ciliated the regard of the king, who gave him a 
pension of a thousand pounds out of the customs. 

In the year 1624 he became a Roman Ca- 
tholic, and having disclosed his new principles to 
the king, resigned his office. He was continued, 
however, a member of the privy council, and was 
created baron of Baltimore in the kingdom of 
Ireland, in the year 1625, at which time he re- 
presented the university of Oxford in parliament. 



LIFE OF G. CALVERT. 41 

While he was secretary of state he was con- 
stituted by patent proprietor of the southeastern 
peninsula of Newfoundland, which he named 
the province of Avalon. He spent twenty-live 
thousand pounds in advancing his plantation, 
and visited it twice in person; but it was so an- 
noyed by the French, that though he once re- 
pulsed and pursued their ships and took sixty 
prisoners, he was obliged to abandon it. 

Being still inclined to form a settlement in 
America, whither he might retire with his family 
and friends of the same religious principles, he 
made a visit to Virginia, the fertility and advan- 
tages of which province had been highly cele- 
brated, and in which he had been interested as 
one of the adventurers. But meeting with an 
unwelcome reception on account of his religion, 
and observing that the Virginians had not ex- 
tended their plantations beyond the Potomac, 
he fixed his attention upon the territory north- 
ward of this river, and as soon as he returned to 
England, obtained a grant of it from Charles I. 
But owing to the tedious forms of public busi- 
ness, before a patent was completed, he died at 
London, April 15th, 1632, in the fifty-first year 
of his age. After his death the patent was again 
drawn in the name of his eldest son Cecil, who 
succeeded to his honours, and it passed the seals 
June 20th, 1632. The country was called Ma- 
ryland, in honour of Henrietta Maria, the queen 
consort of Charles I. From the great precision 
of this charter, the powers which it confers upon 
the proprietor, and the privileges and exemp- 
d2 



42 LIFE OF t. CALVERT. 

tions which it grants to the people, it is evident 
that it was written by sir George himself. The 
liberal code of religious toleration which it es- 
tablished, is very honourable to him, and was 
respected by his son, who carried his design 
into execution. 

Sir George was conspicuous for his good 
sense and moderation. All parties were pleased 
with him. Not being obstinate in his opinions, 
he took as much pleasure in hearing the senti- 
ments of others as in delivering his own. In 
his views of establishing foreign plantations, he 
thought that the original inhabitants, instead of 
being exterminated, should be civilized and con- 
verted; that the governors should not be inte- 
rested merchants, but gentlemen not concerned 
in trade; and that every one should be left to 
provide for himself by his own industry, without 
dependence on a common interest. 

He published Carmen funebre in D. Hen. 
TJntonum, 1596; Parliamentary Speeches; Va- 
rious Letters of State; the Practice of Princes 
and the Lamentation of the Kirk, 1642. He 
also wrote something respecting Maryland, but 
it was never printed. 



L. CALVEKT. 

Leonard Calvert, the first governor of Ma- 
ryland, was the brother of Cecilius Calvert, the 
proprietor, who sent him to America as the head 
of the colony in 1633. After a circuitous voy- 



LIFE OF L. CALVEHT. 4S 

age he arrived, accompanied by his brother, 
George Calvert, and about two hundred per- 
sons of good families and of the Roman Catho- 
lic persuasion, at Point Comfort, in Virginia, on 
the 24th of February, 1634. On the third of 
March, he proceeded in the bay of Chesapeake 
to the northward, and entered the Potomac, up 
which he sailed twelve leagues, and came to an 
anchor under an island, which he named St. 
Clements. Here he fired his cannon, erected a 
cross, and took possession " in the name of the 
Saviour of the world and of the king of Eng- 
land." Thence he went fifteen leagues higher 
to the Indian town of Patomak on the Virgiiiia 
side of the river, now called New Marlborough, 
where he was received in a friendly manner by 
the guardian regent, the prince of the country 
being a minor. Thence he sailed twelve leagues 
higher to the town of Piscataway, on the Mary- 
land side, where he found Henry Fleet, an Eng- 
lishman, who had resided several years among 
the natives, and was held by them in great es- 
teem. This man was very serviceable as an in- 
terpreter. An interview having been procured 
with the Werowance, or prince, Calvert arked 
him, whether he was willing that a settlement 
should be made in his country. He repHed, 
" I will not bid you go, neither will I bid you 
stay; but you may use your own discretion." 
Having convinced the natives that his designs 
were honourable and pacific, the governor now 
sought a more suitable station for commencing 
a colony. He visited a creek on the northern 



44 XIFE OF L. CALVERT. 

side of the Potomac, about four leagues from its 
mouth, where was an Indian village. Here^he 
acquainted the prince of the place with his in- 
tentions, and by presents to him and his princi- 
pal men conciliated his friendship so much, as 
to obtain permission to reside in one part of the 
town until the next harvest, when, it was stipu- 
lated, the natives should entirely quit the place. 
Both parties entered into a contract to live to- 
gether in a friendly manner. After Calvert had 
given a satisfactory consideration, the "^natives 
readily yielded a number of their houses, and 
retired to the others. As the season for plant- 
ing corn had now arrived, both parties went to 
work. Thus, on the 27th of March, 1634, the 
governor took peaceable possession of the coun- 
try of Maryland, and gave to the town the name 
of St Mary, and to the creek on which it was 
situated the name of St. George. The desire of 
rendering justice to the natives, by giving them 
a reasonable compensation for their lands, is a 
trait in the character of the first planters, which 
will always do honour to their memory. 

The colony had brought with them meal from 
England; but they found Indian corn in great 
plenty both at Barbadoes and Virginia, and by 
the next spring they were able to export a thou- 
sand bushels to New England and Newfound- 
land, for which they received in return dried 
fish and other provisions. The natives also killed 
many deer and turkies, which they sold to the Eng- 
lish for knives, beads, and other small articles of 
traffic. Cattle, swine, and poultry, were procured 



I.1FE OF JPENN. 45 

from Virginia. The province was established 
on the broad foundation of security to property, 
and of freedom in rehgion. Fifty acres of land 
were granted in absolute fee to every emigrant, 
and Christianity was established, without allow- 
ing pre-eminence to any particular sect. This 
liberal policy rendered a Roman Catholic colony 
an asylum for those who were driven from New 
England by the persecutions which were there 
experienced from Protestants. 

The governor built a house at St. Mary's for 
himself and his successors, and superintended 
the affairs of the country till the civil war in 
England, when the name of a papist became so 
obnoxious, that the parliament assumed the go- 
vernment of the province, and appointed a new 
governor. Of Leonard Calvert no further ac- 
count has been procured. 

Cecilius Calvert, the proprietor, recovered his 
right to the province upon the restoration of king 
Charles II., in the year 1660, and within a year 
or two appointed his son Charles the governor. 
He died in the year 1676, covered with age and 
reputation, and was succeeded by his son. 



PENN. 



William Penn, an illustrious person among 
the Q,uakers, and founder of the colony of Penn- 
sylvania, was the son of sir William Penn, an 
admiral of England in the protectorate of Crom- 
well, and in the rei2;n of Charles the Second. 



46 XIFE OF iPENN. 

He was born in London in the vicinity of the 
Tower, on the 14th of October, 1644. At an 
early age he was sent to Chigwell school, in Es- 
sex, where after remaining some time, he was 
placed at a private academy on Tower Hill. At 
the age of fifteen years, being well versed in the 
elements of learning, he entered as a student 
and gentleman commoner of Christ Church col- 
lege, in Oxford, where he continued two years, 
and was intimate with Robert Spencer, (after- 
wards earl of Sunderland,) and the famous John 
Locke. Being impressed by the preaching of 
Thomas Loe, an itinerant Ctuaker, he, with se- 
veral other students, withdrew from the na- 
tional way of worship, to hold private meetings, 
at which they preached and prayed among them- 
selves. This conduct gave offence to the heads 
of the college; the parties were fined for non- 
conformity, but this only confirmed them in their 
principles, and, at length, Penn and several 
others were expelled the college. 

Returning home, he continued to affect the 
company of religious persons; from which his 
father, seeing the obstacles it would throw in 
his way to preferment, endeavoured both by 
words and blows to deter him; and finding all 
methods ineffectual, became at length so in- 
censed, that he turned him out of doors; but by 
the influence of his affectionate mother, he was 
so far restored to favour, as to be sent, in com- 
pany with some persons of rank, on a tour to 
France. This took place in 1662. Here, though 
he spent some time in study under the cele- 



LIFE OF PENN. 47 

brated Protestant preacher, Moses Amyrault, 
the very different conversation of other asso- 
ciates at length diverted his thoughts from reh- 
gion. He had, however, acquired the language, 
together with the polished manners of the 
French, when, in 1664, he was recalled by his 
father from Turin, to which place he had pro- 
ceeded from Sauniur, the residence of Amy- 
rault. The admiral joyfully received his son, 
concluding the main point (of his fitness for pro- 
motion) was now gained. He was admitted of 
Lincoln's Inn, to study the law, where he con- 
tinued till the breaking out of the pestilence; 
soon after which, being now twenty-two years 
of age, his father put under his management a 
considerable estate in Ireland, and he went to 
reside in that kingdom. 

In solitude, the religious struggle in Penn's 
breast revived. On the one hand, natural viva- 
city, personal accomplishments, and the respect 
and favour of his friends, attracted his regard 
to the present world: on the other, devotion, 
and an indelible sense of duty, fixed his con- 
templations on the next. 

Being at Cork, he was informed of a meeting 
for worship, then about to be convened by the 
desire of his former friend, Thomas Loe. Penn 
attended it, and Loe delivered a discourse, be- 
ginning with the words, " There is a faith, that 
overcomes the world; and there is a faith, that is 
overcome by the world;" on which he is said to 
have expatiated with much clearness and ener- 
gy. His doctrine agreeing with the previous ex- 



48 LIFE OF PENW. 

perience and present disposition of Penn, he 
now inclined to enter into communion with the 
Quakers, and from this time constantly attended 
their meetings, though at that time they were 
subject to severe persecution. This might have 
operated as a discouragement to a young gentle- 
man of such quality and expectations, especially 
as he exposed himself thereby to the renewed 
displeasure of a parent who loved him, had not 
the integrity of his mind induced him to sacri- 
fice all worldly considerations to the dictates of 
his conscience. 

At a religious meeting, held at Cork, Novem- 
ber, 1667, he with eighteen others was appre- 
hended by order of the mayor, who would have 
liberated Penn, upon his giving bond for his 
good behaviour; but the latter, deeming the 
meeting no misdemeanour, refused bond, and 
was sent to prison with the rest. He wrote a 
few lines to the earl of Orrery, containing ex- 
ceptions to the mayor's proceedings, an argu- 
ment against persecution, and a request " for 
the speedy releasement of all" who had been 
committed on the occasion. The earl contented 
himself with ordering Penn's discharge. 

His father, being informed of these circum- 
stances, remanded him home, and was readily 
obeyed. Penn had now again to pass through 
the ordeal of parental displeasure, and in this a 
principal object seems to have been, his conti- 
nuance in the exterior of his education, or as* I 
his biographer has it, in the customs and fashions , 
of the age. But so fixed was he in the resolu- 



J.JFli Oif PKXN. * 49 

;ion to follow what he esteemed a manifestation 
3f the will of God in his conscience to the con- 
:rary, that, although he behaved on these occa- 
dons with Christian meekness and iiiial affec- 
ion, neither threats nor entreaties could move 
lis constancy. The honour of the hat (in these 
imes a matter of no hght esteem) was esjyecially 
:ontended for by the punctilious admiral; who, 
it last, would have tolerated his son in other in- 
stances of nonconformity, on condition that he 
ihould be uncovered before the king, the duke 
)f York, aJid himself.*)^ Penn took time to con- 
sider of tiiis proposal in secret; he even made it 
I subject of fasting and supplication to God to 
)e directed aright, and he deliberately refused 
he terms; in consequence of which he was a 
lecond time driven from the paternal mansion. 
3is integrity was now put to a severe proof: it 
ippears t/iat he found a shelter among his adopt- 
sd friepds, the (Quakers; while his nrotber, who 
vns always his friend, frequently supplied his 
vants, without the father's knowledge. At 
ength the admiral relented, so far as to wink at 
lis return to the family; and when in conse- 
[ucnce of being found at religious meetings (by 
lie state then called seditious conventicles), he 
ras at any time imprisoned, would privately use 
lis influence to get him released. 

The talents of Penn were soon devoted to the 
upport of the docti-ine he had espoused. He 
lecame a preacher among the Q^uakers, and 
Riblished in 1668, on their behalf, a piece, en- 
itled "Truth exalted," and in the prosecution 

E 



50 • I.IFE or FKSs. 

of a controversy whicli this piece bad excited, he 
shortly afterwards published another, wilh the 
following title: "The Sandy Foundation Shaken 
or those so generally believed and applaudet 
Doctrines, of one God, subsisting in three dis- 
tinct and separate Persons; the Impossibility oi 
God's pardoning Sin without a plenary Satisfac- 
tion; the Justification of imp^ire Persons by an 
imputative Righteousness, refuted from the Au- 
thority of Scripture Testimonies and right Rea- 
son/' Upon the publication of tiiis work, the 
vindictive spirit of intolqa-ance was stirred up. 
" It was evil spoken of," says Sewel, the histo- 
rian of the Quakers, " and Penn was connnitted 
to the Tower, and, as some thought, not with- 
out his father's being acquainted with it, perhaps 
to prevent a worse treatment." Fiom what 
quarter this was apprehended, we skall see pre- 
sently; for Penn being thus secure^ in the 
Tower, and denied the access of his friends, his 
servant one day brought him word (as it seems 
from the admiral) that the bishop of London 
was resolved he should either publicly recant or 
die a prisoner. His reply evinced a mind unter- 
rified at the prospect of sufferings, which he 
considered as inflicted for conscience sake: — 
" My prison," says he, " shall be my grave. I 
owe my conscience to no man. They are mis- 
taken in me; I value not their threats. They 
shall know that I can weary out their malice, 
and baffle all their designs by the spirit of pa- 
tience." 

He began to occupy his solitude with religious 



T.IFE OF PENN^. 51 

"impositions, the most considerable among whicli 
vas a practical treatise on the Christian religion, 
mtitled "No Cross no Crown." In this work, 
lis cotemporary. Dr. Henry More, says, he has 
reated the subject of a future life, and the im- 
nortality of the soul, with a force and spirit 
?qual to most writers. It has passed througli 
nany editions. 

After near seven months durance, Penn wrote 
the secretary of state, lord Arlington, request- 
ng to be heard in his own defence before the 
[ing, and complaining warmly of the manner in 
vhich his sentiments had been misrepresented 
►y his enemies. In this letter several just and 
loble sentiments occur. He tells his lordship, 
■ that he is at a loss to imagine how a diversity 
/ religious opinions can affect the safety of the 
late, seeing that kingdoms and commonwealths 
ave lived under the balance of divers parties. 
le conceives that they only are imfit for politi- 
al society, who maintain principles subversive 
f industry, fidelity, justice and obedience; but 
) say that men must form their faith of things 
roper to another ivorld, according to the pre- 
options of other mortal men in this, and, if 
ley do not, that they have no right to be at li- 
^rty, or to live in this, is both ridiculous and 
angerous. He maintains that the understand- 
ig can never be convinced by other arguments 
)an what are adequate to its oivn nature. — 
*orce may make hypocrites, but can make no 
inverts,'^ &.c. &c. 

Penn, during his imprisonment, likewise pub- 



1,1 FR OF ri'NX. 



lished a sliort piece, entitled " Jnnocency with ^ 
lier open Face, presented by way of iipology I 
for the Book, entitled tiie Sandy Foiind.ruou 
Shaken." lie here says, " that which I am cre- 
dibly infoi'i^ied to be the greatest reason of my 
imprisonment, and of that noise of blasphemy 
which hath pierced so many ears of late, is my' 
denying the divinity of Christ, and divesting him 
of his eternal Godhead; which most busily has 
been suggested, as well to those in authority as 
maliciously insinuated among the people." In 
confutation of which charges, he proceeds to 
prove from scripture the Godhead of Christ 
Both of these tracts were republished in the col- 
lection of his works, in folio, 1771; and the- 
reader, who desires a just view of his sentiments ; 
on the several controverted points, will do welt 
to compare them with each other, and with his 
doctrinal works at large. Soon after this expla-^ 
natory defence, Penn was liberated from the,! 
Tower, and went to Ireland, where he seems to 
have been occupied for twelve months in thej 
care of his father's estate, and in various ser-i 
vices to his friends, the (Quakers; after which 
he returned to England. 

In the year 1670, an act of parliament pro^ 
hibited the meeting of dissenters under severe 
penalties. The Q,uakers, being forcibly kepi 
out of their meeting-house in Grace-churcli 
street, London, assembled before it in the street, 
where Penn addressed a numerous concoursCj 
and was apprehended on the spot by a warranl 
from Samuel Stirling, lord mayor, and commit- 



LIFE OF VESS. 53 

ted to Newgate. At the next sessions at the 
Old Bailey, he was indicted along with William 
Mead, another eminent Q,uaker, for meeting in, 
and conspiring to preach to an unlawful and tu- 
multuous assembly. He made, says his biogra- 
pher, a brave defence, discovering both the free 
spirit of an Englishman, and the undaunted mag- 
nanimity of a Christian, insomuch that, notwith- 
standing the most partial frowns and menaces of 
the bench, the jury acquitted them both. It may 
be proper to add, that the Jury had first brought 
in their verdict, " guilty of speaking in Grace- 
church street;" but this being unsatisfactory to 
the court, they were detained all night, and the 
next day returned a verdict " not guilty." The 
court was highly incensed against them, fined 
them forty marks each, and ordered them to be 
imprisoned till their fines should be paid. But 
this dangerous assumption of power was after- 
wards adjudged illegal by the court of common 
pleas, on which occasion the chief justice 
Vaughan distinguished himself by a very able 
speech in vindication of the rights of juries. 
The trial of Penn and Mead is inserted in the 
collection of Penn's works; and has been pub- 
lished separately. " A cheap edition of this 
trial," says John Evans, (in his Sketch of the 
Deuominations of the Christian World,) "ought 
to be produced for general circulation. It pre- 
sents a sad picture of the times, and is an elo- 
quent comment on the wretched consequences 
of religious bigotry." 

e2 



54 1-11 E 01' I'iuSS. 

Not long after this event admiral Peun died, 
perfectly reconciled to his son, to whom he left 
an estate of ^1500 per annum. Penn engaged 
about this time in a public dispute, at Wycomb, 
with Jeremy Ives, a celebrated Baptist, on the 
universality of a divine light in the minds of 
men; which doctrine Ives undertook to dis- 
prove, but seems to have quitted the field to his 
antagonist immediately after stating his argu- 
ments. In the month called February, 1670-1, 
Penn was again committed on the pretext of 
preaching publicly, to Newgate, where he re- 

* A short time before his death, looking over the busy 
scenes in which he had been engaged, he became solemnly 
impressed with the view, and filled with regret for his want 
of sufficient attention to the mercies he had received. The 
following excellent advice which, at that time, he gave to 
his son William, strongly express the religious state of his 
mind. "I am weary of the world. I would not live over 
my days again, if I could command them with a wish: for 
the snares of life are greater than the fears of death. This 
troubles me, that I have offended a gracious God, who has 
followed me to this day. O, have a care of sin ; that is the 
sting both of life and death. Three things I commend to 
you. First, let nothing in this world tempt you to wrong 
your conscience: I charge you, do nothing against your 
conscience : you will then keep peace at home, which wilt 
be a feast to you in the day of trouble. Secondly, what- 
ever you design to do, plan it justly, and time it seasona- 
bly ; for these give security and despatch. Lastly, be not 
troubled at disappointments; for if they may be recovered, 
do it ; if they cannot, trouble is in vain. If you could not 
have avoided them, be content : peace and profit oftgn at- 
tend submission to Providence ; and afflictions make wise. 
If you could have avoided them, let not your trouble ex- 
ceed instruction for another time. These rules will carry 
you with firmness and comfort through this incoastant 
world." 



Llili 01' PENN. 



mained six months. It is observable that he liad 
recently published a piece in favour of liberty of 
conscience, and another, entitled " A seasonable 
Caveat against Popery:" the one probably offen- 
sive to the intolerant clergy, the other to the 
court. At his commitment he held a spirited 
dialogue on persecution with sir John Robison, 
lieutenant of the Tower; at the close of which, 
the latter calling for an officer with a file of 
armed men, " No, no," said Penn, " send thy 
lacquey, / knoiv the ivay to JVewgate." 

Being discharged at the end of nine months 
without any trial, he went over to Holland and 
Germany, where he continued travelling and 
preaching, till the king published his " declara- 
tion of indulgence to tender consciences ;" upon 
which he returned to England, and in the year 
1672, married Gulielma Maria, daughter of sir 
William Springett, formerly of Darhng, in 
Sussex. 

He settled at Rickmansworth, Herts, conti- 
nuing to render service, both by preaching and 
writing, to the religious cause in which he was 
now engaged for life. Nor did he neglect an 
attention to the interests of his country, but pub- 
lished in this year a pamphlet, entitled, " The 
proposed Comprehension, soberly and not un- 
seasonably considered;" and in 1675, a larger 
work, the title of which is, " England's present 
Interest considered, with Honour to the Prince 
and Safety to the People; in Answer to this one 
Question, What is most fit, easy, and safe at 
this Juncture of Affairs, to be done, for quieting 



56 LIFK OF PENN. 

of Differences, allaying the Heat of contrary In- 
terests, and making them subservient to the In- 
terest of the Government, and consistent with 
the Pj-osperity of the Kingdom." The answer 
to this, and the argument of the piece, are in 
three things: " 1. An inviolable and impartial 
maintenance of English rights. 2. Our supe- 
riors governing themselves upon a balance (as 
near as may be) towards the several religious in- 
terests. 3. A sincere promotion of general and 
practical religion." Becoming, about this time, 
interested in the property of West Jersey, he 
took an active part in the measures used to pro- 
mote the settlement of that province. 

In 1677, he renewed his travels in Holland, 
in company with George Fox, Robert Barclay, 
and others. While in those parts, he assisted at 
a general meeting of the Fnends, held for the 
purpose of settling their religious disciphne; and 
those at Dantzic being under persecution, Penn 
wrote, in their name, an address to the king of 
Poland, with a confession of faith, and a request 
that he would interpose for them. He then pro- 
ceeded with Barclay to Herwerden, the court 
of the princess Ehzabeth of the Rhine, elder 
sister of Sophia, electr.ess of Hanover, on whom 
the succession of the crown of England was after- 
wards settled. Their object was a religious visit to 
this princess, and the countess Homes, her com- 
panion, both Protestants, and the former esteem- 
ed one of the most learned of her sex in that age. 
Some correspondence, begun upon the report 
of their extraordinary piety, had opened a way 



LIFE or TENX. 57 

for a personal interview. Penu and his compa- 
nion were well received at Herwerden: a cor- 
respondence by letter was afterwards kept up 
between the former and the princess, and she 
dying in 1660, lie inserted in the second edition 
of his " No Cross no Crown,'' a testimony to 
her highly exemplary character. In returning 
through Germany and Holland, he preached in 
many places, at meetings convened for the oc- 
casion. He was heard, this year, before a com- 
mittee of parliament, in support of a petition 
from the Gtuakers, who were oppressed by pro- 
secutions in the Exchequer, under statutes 
enacted against the Papists, but converted by 
some magistrates into engines of annoyance to 
Protestant dissenters. In 1679, and during two 
years following, he pubhshed several things; as, 
" An Address to Protestants;" " England's great 
Interest in the Choice of this new Parliament;" 
a piece dedicated to the electors; and " One 
Project for the Good of England;" which he 
presented to the parliament itself. He likewise 
exerted himself to procure the return of Alger- 
non Sidney as a member of the house, first at 
Guildford, and afterwards at Brumber. About 
this time he was elected a fellow of the Royal 
Society. 

We now come to the most considerable of 
Penn's actions, the settlement of a colony in 
North America, on liberal and pacific princi- 
ples. A tract of country on the west side of the 
Delaware, (formerly belonging to the Dutch, and 
called the New Netherlands,) was granted on 



58 LIFE OF TE^.V. 

petition by Charles the Second, to Wilhani Penn 
and his heirs, in consideration of admiral Penn's 
services, and of debts due to him from the crown 
at his decease. To this the duke of York add- 
ed, by cession, a further contiguous portion of 
territory, seated lower on the Delaware. The 
king's patent bore date the 4th of March, 1680-1 ; 
and in this instrument he gave to the province, 
in honour of the patentee, its new name of Penn- 
sylvania. Penn, being thus constituted absolute 
proprietor and governor, published " A brief 
Account of the Province of Pennsylvania," in 
which he proposed terms of settlement to such 
as might incline to remove thither, offering land 
at forty shillings purchase, and one shilhng per 
annum quit rent, for one hundred acres. A great 
number of buyers came forward, several of whom 
formed a company, calling themselves "The 
Free Society of Traders in Pennsylvania." Three 
ships presently departed, with adventurers from 
England and Wales, chiefly industrious and re- 
putable persons of Penn^s own communion. Two 
of these arrived on the coast in time of winter; 
the third was detained till spring in the West 
India islands. Thus was the settlement begun, 
the proprietor being occupied meantime in pro- 
viding a government for the colony, and i-i con- 
certing measures for its security. The native 
Americans, or Indians, having experienced, in 
some provinces on that continent, much injus- 
tice, had made the most terrible reprisals: sound 
policy, therefore, conspiring with his own tem- 
per and principles, made it Penn's care to have 



JLIFE or PENN. 59 

lliem treated with candour, justice, and huma- 
nity; and his relation, W. Markham, saiHng with 
the first settlers, he joined him with others in a 
commission to open a friendly intercourse with 
the natives, to whom he sent out considerable 
presents, and a letter couched in plain concilia- 
tory terms. In the beginning of 1682, he pub- 
lished " The Frame of the Government of the 
Province of Pennsylvania in America, together 
with certain Laws, agreed upon in England by 
the Governor and divers Freemen of the afore- 
said Province, to be further explained and con- 
firmed there by the first provincial Council that 
shall be held, if they seem meet." This work 
is prefaced with an ingenious discourse on the 
nature, origin, use and abuse of government. 
'■ That," he observes, " which makes a good go- 
vernment, must keep it such: to wit, men of 
wisdom and virtue; qualities that, because they 
descend not with worldly inheritances, must be 
carefully propagated by a virtuous education of 
youth:" and in order to give effect where he had 
power, to that great principle of good govern- 
ment, liberty of conscience, in behalf of which, 
he and bis friends so deeply suffered, he recog- 
nised it m the first article of his " Constitu- 
tions," and proceeded to establish it by the fol- 
lowing law: " All persons living in the province 
who shall confess and acknowledge the One Al- 
mighty and Eternal God, to be Creator, Up- 
holder, and Ruler of the world, and that hold 
themselves obliged in conscience to live peace- 
ably and justly in civil society, shall in no ways 



6l> LIFE OF PEXX. 

be molested or prejudiced for their religious per- 
suasion, or practice in matters of faitli and ivor- 
ship; nor shall they be compelled, at any time, 
to frequent or maintain any religious worship, 
place, or ministry whatever." To the above 
article was added another equally conducive to 
the welfare of society: " That according to the 
good example of the primitive Christians, and 
the ease of the creation, every first day of the 
week, called the Lord's Day, people shall ab- 
stain from their daily labour, that they may the 
better dispose themselves to worship God ac- 
cording to their understandings." 

The laws were an original compact between 
the governor and the freemen of the colony. 
They appear to be founded in wisdom and 
equity, and some of them have been copied into 
the declaration of rights prefixed to several of 
the present republican constitutions in America. 

Having completed his preparations, the go- 
vernor, early in the autumn of 1682, sailed for 
Pennsylvania; his family (of whom he took leave 
in a pathetic and instructive letter) remaicing 
behind. He was accompanied by about an hun- 
dred persons, mostly Quakers, from his own 
neighbourhood: but of these the small pox, 
which had been inadvertently carried on board, 
swept off no less than thirty. In other respects 
the voyage was prosperous; and passing up the 
Delaware, he was met by the colonists, consist- 
ing of English, Dutch, and Swedes, with demon- 
strations of satisfaction. Having landed at New- 
castle, October 24th, he convened and addressed 



LIFE OF PES>. 61 

the inhabitants, received legal possession of the 
country, and renewed the magistrates' commis- 
sions. After paying a visit to New York, he met 
the first provincial assembly at Chester on the 
Delaware, then called Upland. Here, in a ses- 
sion of three days, the territory ceded by the 
duke of York was annexed to the province; an 
act of settlement was confirmed; resident fo- 
reigners naturalized; and the laws, which had 
been formed in England, after some revision, 
passed in form. Penn now visited lord Balti- 
more in his government of Maryland; whence 
lie returned to Coquannock (the future site of 
Philadelphia), and began to purchase lands of 
the natives. He now likewise first entered per- 
sonally with them into that firm alUance of peace 
and good offices, and formed (to use their own 
symbol) that chain of friendship, which Avas to 
last as long as sun and moon endure. 

The benevolence of Penn's disposition led 
him to exercise great tenderness towards the 
natives, which was much increased by an opi- 
nion which he had formed, and which he openly 
avowed, that they were descendants of the ten 
dispersed tribes of Israel. He travelled into the 
country, visited them in their dwellings, was pre- 
sent at their feasts, conversed with them in a 
free and familiar manner, and gained their affec- 
tions by his obliging carriage, and his frequent 
acts of generosity. On public occasions, he re- 
ceived them with ceremony, and transacted busi- 
ness with solemnity and order. Certain it is, 
that his strict observance^ of justice in paying 

F 



62 LIFE OF PExVX. 

them for the soil (which was their inheritance;, 
and the interest he manifested, during many suc- 
cessive treaties, in their real welfare, not only 
operated to secure this colony for a long series 
of years from hostile attacks, but implanted in 
the generous, tliough uncultivated, mind of the 
American, a regard for Oiias (Penn), and his chil- 
dren (the Quakers), which bids fair to be trans- 
mitted to the latest remains of the race. One part 
of his agreement w ith the natives was, that they 
should sell no lands to any person but to himself 
or his agents; another was that his agents should 
not occupy or grant any lands, but those which 
were fairly purchased of the natives. These 
stipulations were confirmed by subsequent acts 
of assembly, and every contract made between 
private persons and the natives without leave of 
the proprietor, was declared void. The charter 
which he had obtained of the crown compre- 
hended a far greater extent of territory than it 
was proper for him at first to purchase of the 
natives. 

Philadelphia, the capital of the province, was 
next to be laid out, of which at the time of 
Penn's arrival, not a house was completed; the 
colonists having, in general, no better lodgings 
than caves, hollowed out of the high banks of 
the river: the very plot fixed on for the city was 
claimed by some Swedes, to whom the governor 
allowed a greater quantity of land in exchange. 
This city, extending two miles in length and one 
in breadth, and abutting at each end on a navi- 
gable river, was now planned, with admirable 



3.IFE OF PENN. 63 

boldness, convenience and regularity, and laid 
out under the inspection of Thomas Holmes, 
surveyor general to the province. Ere twelve 
months had elapsed, the rudiments of the future 
metropolis showed themselves in about fourscore 
dwellings, the seats of freedom, peace, and in- 
dustry. The governor despatched his plan to 
the committee of the Free Society of Traders, 
accompanied with a description (the best extant 
of these times) of the country, its natural his- 
tory, and aborigines. This description is insert- 
ed in the collection of his works before men- 
tioned. The first jury was impannelled here 
early in 1683; and one Pickering was tried, 
with others his accessaries, before the governor 
and council, and convicted of counterfeiting the 
Spanish silver money current in the province. 
His sentence discovers the same spirit of mild- 
ness and equity, which, at this day, constitutes 
the praise and the efficacy of the criminal code 
of Pennsylvania. He was to pay a fine of forty 
pounds towards the building of a court house, 
standing committed till payment; find securities 
for his good behaviour, and make restitution, in 
good silver, to the holders of his base coin, 
ivhich, being first melted doivn, was to be re- 
stored to him. 

Various legislative, economical, and religious 
measures, together with a tedious dispute with 
lord Baltimore, on the subject of the boundary 
line between this pro\ince and Maryland, con- 
tinued to occupy Penn till about midsummer, 
1684; when he found it needful, on various con- 



64 J.IFE OF PJiNJS. 

siderations, to return to England. His interest 
at court had declined during his absence: but it 
was now restored, upon the death of Charles II, 
by the accession of his more innnediate patron 
James II. He made use of his influence for the 
relief of his friends, the Quakers, who still lay 
under the scourge of penal statutes; and for the 
gratuitous service of many others. In particu- 
lar, he exerted himself in favour of the measure 
at that time so much, though so insincerely, held 
out by the court, of universal liberty of con- 
science. In 1686 (as we learn from bishop Bur- 
net), being in Holland, in tlie coiu'se of a tour 
to Germany, &c. he had several interviews on 
this subject with the prince of Orange, on be- 
half (though not as an accredited minister) of 
king James: but his proposal going so far as to 
abolish the tests, it was rejected, probably by 
Burnet's advice, who was then with the prince, 
and in his confidence. However freely we may 
excuse Penn, on the fair plea of gratitude, for 
his attachment to James, it is to be lamented that 
he gave implicit credit to pretended schemes of 
religious liberty, the duplicity of which was so 
fully penetrated by others. His intimate re- 
ception at court, and the appearance of being 
some way trusted or employed by the king, 
now subjected him to genei'al imputation of 
being a concealed Papist. Even his old ac- 
quaintance, Dr. Tillotson, (afterwards archbi- 
shop of Canterbury,) suspected him; but some 
expressions of Tillotson's on the subject coming 
to Penn's ears, a correspondence ensued be- 



LIFE OF PENIT. 65 

tvveen them, at the close of which Tillotson ac- 
knowledged himself fully satisfied that there ex- 
isted no just grounds for the surmise. About 
this time (besides a further account of his pro- 
vince) Penn published several pieces on his fa- 
vourite topic, liberty of conscience; one of which 
was entitled " Good Advice to the Church of 
England, Roman Catholic, and Protestant Dis- 
senter; in which it is endeavoured to be made 
appear, that it is their Duty, Principle and Inte- 
rest, to abolish the Penal Laws and Tests." 

The last occasion in which we have to view 
Penn in connexion with the court of James, is 
in an occasional attendance on the movements 
of the latter, this year, through several of the 
midland counties. Penn seems to have made 
use of several intervals in this jjrogress, to pay 
religious visits to his friends, and to preach to 
the people. On some of the latter occasions, 
the king, too, was present to hear him. At Ox- 
ford he remonstrated with James on his arbi- 
trary treatment of the fellows of Magdalen Col- 
lege, and attempted a mediation between them 
md the king, which he further prosecuted af- 
terwards at Windsor; but it proved abortive. 

The revolution brought Penn again into diffi- 
culties, as a suspected Papist, or Jesuit, and a 
secret agent for the old government. On the 
lOth of December, 1C88, walking in Whitehall, 
le was sent for by the lords of the council, then 
fitting, who, though nothing was laid to his 
charge, obliged him to give securities for his ap- 
pearance on the first day of the next term: he 
t2 



G6 LIFE OF rJEXX. 

was continued on these to the Easter term ("ol- 
lovving, on the last day of which he was cleared 
in open court. In 1690, he was again brought 
before the council, on an accusation of holding 
correspondence with the late king James; he ap- 
pealed to king William, who, after a conference 
of near two hours, was inclined to acquit him; 
but, to please some of the council, he was held 
upon bail for a while, and in Trinity term, of the 
same year, again discharged. He was yet a third 
time attacked, and his name inserted in a pro- 
clamation, dated July 18th this year, wherein 
(among divers of the nobility and others, to the 
immber of eighteen,) he was charged with ad- 
hering to the king's enemies, but proof failing 
respecting him, he was again cleared by order 
of the court of King's Bench. He now pro- 
posed to go again to his province, and gave out 
proposals for a new settlement there. It ap- 
pears that though his stay in England might be 
necessary to the security of his title as proprie- 
tary, it was highly detrimental both to his inte- 
rests in America, and, through deficiency hi- 
therto of revenue from it, to his private estate. 
His order for convoy had already passed the se- 
cretary of state, when the voyage was prevented 
by a new charge against him, backed by the 
oath of one Fuller, a wretch who was afterwards 
declared by parliament an impostor. The charge, 
however, being that of partaking in a plot to re- 
store the late king, a warrant was granted for 
his apprehension, which he narrowly escaped at 
his return from George Fox's burial, the six- 



LI IK OF PKJTA". 67 

leciith of the month called January, 1690. See- 
ing now no probability of fair treatment, he re- 
tired for two or three years; during which time, 
besides a preface to the collected works of Bar- 
clay, he wrote the following pieces: — 1. "Just 
Measures," an epistle to the Quakers in vindica- 
tion of religious discipline: 2. "A Key," or a 
treatise explanatory of their principles and prac- 
tice: 3. " Reflections and Maxims relating to 
the Conduct of Human Life." The two latter 
of these have gone through many editions. 

At the close of the year 1693, being admitted 
through the intercession of some of the nobility 
to appear before the king and council,' he now 
etfectually represented his innocence, and got 
clear of this long political persecution. About 
this time his wife, who was an amiable and ac- 
complished woman, died, and he married after 
two years, Hannah, daughter of Thomas Callow- 
hill, of Bristol; and soon after lost by a con- 
sumption, his eldest son, a promising youth, just 
of age. The interval from his appearing again 
in public, to the year 1699, appears to have 
been chiefly devoted to religious labours and con- 
troversies: he also presented to parliament some 
arguments for exempting Quakers from oaths; 
and some remarks on a bill against blasphemy^ 
in which he very rationally proposed that the 
term should be so defined as to preclude mali- 
cious interpretations. This bill was dropped. 

On the prevalence of Penn's enemies at court, 
he had been deprived of his government of Penn- 
sylvania, which was annexed, in October, 169-2, 



t)S LIFE OF PENN. 

to that of New York, under colonel Fletcher. 
The ostensible reasons for this step were mal- 
administration, and danger of the loss of the pro- 
vince: the real one probably was a jealousy ex- 
cited by the growing prosperity of the colony, 
and by principles and practices in its jurispru- 
dence too liberal for the age. Penn's rights 
were restored to him by an instrument of Wil- 
liam and Mary, dated in August, 1694; but it 
was not till five years after this, that he embarked 
a second time for the province, accompanied by 
his family. The vessel, being three months at 
sea, did not arrive at Philadelphia " until the 
beginning of the tenth month, 1699, when a dan- 
gerous and contagious distemper called the yel- 
low fever, having raged in the province and car- 
ried off gi'eat numbers of people, had ceased. ^^ 
Penn seegis now to have intended to spend the 
remainder of his life in America, and he applied 
himself dihgently to the offices of government; 
in which the inevitable difficulties arising from 
a mixed population, of various dispositions and' 
interests, and enjoying a great share of liberty, 
required the exercise of both skill and patience. 
His administration was successful and the co- 
lony was stated to have been at this period, when 
compared with others of the same standing on 
the continent, in an easy and flourishing condi- 
tion. His old allies, the natives, were not over- 
looked, and religion being ever a predominant 
consideration with Penn, he engaged his friends 
at a monthly meeting for discipline, held the be- 
ginning of 1 700, in a plan for the instruction of 



I-IPE OF PENX. &9 

the natives and of the negroes, who had now 
been introduced among them, in the principles 
of the Christian faith. Later experience has 
shown that Christianity, to obtain a cordial and 
general reception among these people, should be 
preceded by her handmaid civilization. 

A public school (free to the children of the 
poor) had been already founded here. In the 
second month, 1701, a treaty was held between 
the governor and about forty of the chief per- 
sons among the natives, in which besides renew- 
ing former covenants, the parties established 
some regulations on the subject of trade between 
them: a principle care of the governor, on this 
occasion, seems to have been to prevent the abo- 
minable practice, already used by some unwor- 
thy colonists, of drawing the natives into a ruin- 
ous traffic, by offering them spirituous liquors. 

During these transactions, an attempt was 
making at home, under pretence of advancing the 
prerogatives of the crown, and of the national 
benefit, to invade the several proprietary govern- 
ments in America, and reduce them to regal 
ones. A bill for this purpose was already before 
the lords, when the land owners of Pcnjisylva- 
nia, present in England, petitioned the house, 
and gained time for the governor's return; who, 
on notice of the measure, presently embai'kcd, 
and arrived at Portsmouth in December, 1701. 
The bill, which had been postponed, was now 
entirely dropped, and the accession of queen 
Anne, soon after, placed Penn once more in the 
sunshine of court. His estate, however, had 



70 LIFE OF PENN. 

now suffered much by liberal disbursements, by 
inadequate returns, and by the continual politi- 
cal impediments thrown in his way. He was 
moreover involved, in 1 707, in a suit at law w ith 
the executors of a person who had been his stew- 
ard; and his case not admitting of relief by the 
court of chancery, he was obhged to live within 
the rules of the Fleet, until the dispute could be 
adjusted. Advantage was now taken of his em- 
barrassments, by the ministry, to endeavour to 
buy what was before to have been taken by an 
act of power. He demanded for his province 
^'20,000, and after some discussion had agreed 
to accept of ^12,000, when he was incapaci- 
tated by illness from completing the sale. This 
defect was to have been supplied by an act of 
parliament, and by the queen's order one was 
prepared. It now appeared, on the petition of 
Henry Gouklney and others, that Pennsylvania 
had actually been mortgaged to them by its pro- 
prietor in 1708, for the sum of ^6600! Let us 
turn from this prospect: it is sickening to see 
public spirit and liberal enterprise reduced to 
the necessity of pawning and setting to sale its 
honourable fruits. The estate, however, was 
not sold, but continued in the hands of Penn; 
and the proprietaries, after the revolution in 
America, received from the legislature of Penn- 
sylvania the sum of ^130,000, in lieu of tiieir 
quit-rents, besides retaining many valuable tracts 
of land. They also received, by an act of the 
British parliament, a remuneration of ^4000 per 



LIFE OF PENfV. 7 I 

annum, in consideration of their losses and of 
the " meritorious services" of their ancestor. 

For the ten years after his return to Europe, 
Penn lived mostly near London, and was still 
active in religious and civil society. He wrote, 
in 1709, " Some Account of the Life and Wri- 
tings of Bulstrode Whitelock, Esq." This was 
published along with the " Memorials of English 
Affairs," written by that excellent man and 
statesman, with whom Penn had been for many 
years acquainted. In 1710, his health declining, 
he took a handsome seat at Rushcombe, near 
Twyford, Bucks. Here, in 1712, he was at- 
tacked with fits, supposed to be apoplectic, by 
which his understanding and memory were much 
impaired, and he became, in consequence, unfit 
for public action, though not insensible, as it ap- 
pears, to the sym.pathy of his friends and the 
comforts of religion in a peaceful conscience. 
He died, after a gradual declension of six years, 
on the 30th of tlie month called July, 1718, in 
the 74th year of his age, and was interred at the 
Quaker's burial ground, at Jordens, near Bea- 
consfield. 

One of the ablest and best informed of Penn's 
cotemporaries, Burnet, in his history of his own 
times, has exhibited him on several occasions to 
some disadvantage, both as a man and a citizen. 
That he should no where report any good of a 
person so eminent, might justly excite our sur- 
prise, were it not apparent that Penn was, on 
several accounts, odious to this historian. We 
must, therefore, receive the little he is pleased 



r^ LIFE 01' BARTRAM. 

to say concerning him, with due allowance for 
the effect of party prejudice. That Penn was 
a perfect or a faultless character, will not, by 
his warmest friends, be pretended. He appears 
to have wanted discernment in his estimate of 
affairs at home; but in his policy abroad, where 
he moved without shackles, there is a soundness 
of principle, and a dignity of feeling, that make 
ample amends for this defect: his integrity was 
evinced tli rough many severe trials: his errors 
may be pronounced a fraction of no moment, 
when set against ti^e great sum of good, of which, 
under the Author of every good, he was the con- 
scious and the willing donor to mankind. 



BABTRAM. 

John Bartkam, an eminent botanist, was 
born near the village of Darby, in Chester coun- 
ty, Pennsylvania, in the year 1701. His grand- 
father of the same name accompanied William 
Penn to this country in 1682. 

This self taught genius early discovered an 
ardent desire for the acquisition of knowledge, 
especially of botanical knowledge; but the in- 
fant state of the colony placed great obstacles 
in his way. He however surmounted them by 
intense application and the resources of his own 
mind. By the assistance of respectable charac- 
ters, he obtained the rudiments of the learned 
languages, which he studied with extraordinary 
success. So earnest was he in the pursuit of 



J.IFE OF BARTfiAM. TS 

learning, that he could hardly spare time to eat; 
and he might often have been found with his vic- 
tuals in one hand and his book in the other. He 
acquired so much knowledge of medicine and 
surgery, as to administer great assistance to the 
indigent and distressed in his neighbourhood. 
He cultivated the ground as the means of sup- 
porting a large family; but while ploughing or 
sowing his fields, or mowing meadows, he was 
still pushing his inquiries into the operations of 
nature. 

He was the first American who conceived and 
carried into effect the design of a botanic gar- 
len, for the cultivation of American plants, as 
ivell as of exotics. He purchased a fine situa- 
tion on the banks of the Schuylkill, about five 
miles from Philadelphia, where he laid out with 
liis own hands a large garden. He furnished it 
ivith a variety of the most curious and beautiful 
tegetables, collected in his excursions from Ca- 
nada to Florida. These excursions were made 
principally in autumn, when his presence at 
lome was least demancZed by his agricultural 
ivocations. His ardour in these pursuits was 
mch, that at the age of seventy he made a jour- 
ley into East Florida to explore its natural pro- 
luctions. His travels among the Indians were 
Vequently attended with danger and difliculty. 
By his means the gardens of Europe were en- 
riched with elegant flowering shrubs, with plants 
md trees, collected in different parts of our 
iountry, ^om the shore of lake Ontario to the 
source of the river St. Juan. 

G 



LIFE OF BAKTRAM. 



He made such proficiency in his favourite 
pursuit, that Linna3us pronounced him "the 
greatest natural botanist in tlie world." 

His eminence in natural history attracted the 
esteem of the most distinguished men in Ame- 
rica and Europe, and he corresponded with 
many of them. By means of the friendship of 
Sir Hans Sloane, Mr. Catesby, Dr. Hill, Lin- 
naeus, and others, he was furnished with books 
and apparatus, which he much needed, and 
which greatly lessened the difficulties of his si- 
tuation. He in return sent them what was new 
and curious in the productions of America. 

He was elected a member of several of the 
most eminent societies and academies abroad, 
and was at length appointed American botanist 
to his Britannic majesty, George HI, in which 
appointment he continued till his death, in Sep- 
tember, 1777, in the seventy-sixth year of his 
age. 

Mr. Bartram was an ingenious mechanic. 
The stone house in which he lived, he built him- 
self, and several monum^^nts of his skill remain 
in it. He was often his own mason, carpenter, 
blacksmith, &c., and generally made his own 
farming utensils. 

His stature was rather above the middle size; 
his body was erect and slender; his complexion 
was sandy, his countenance was cheerful though 
there was a solemnity in his air. His gentle 
manners corresponded with bis amiable disposi- 
tion. He was modest, liberal, charitable; a friend 
to social order, and an advocate for the iibolition 



LIFE OF BARTRAM. 75 

of slavery. He gave freedom to a young Afri- 
can whom he had brought up; but he, in grati- 
tude to his master, continued in his service. 
Though temperate, he kept a plentiful table; 
and annually on New Year's day, he made an 
entertainment, consecrated to friendship and 
philosophy. 

He was born and educated in the society of 
Friends. The following distich was engraved 
by himself on a stone in the wall over the front 
window of his own apartment: 

"'Tis God alone, the Almighty Lord, 

" The Holy One by me adoi'd. — John Bartram, 1770." 

'He left several children. John, his youngest 
son, succeeded him as proprietor of his botanic 
garden ; but it is now chiefly under the superin- 
tendence of another son, Mr. William Bartram, 
who accompanied his father in many of his bo- 
tanical tours, and who is well known by his 
book, entitled "Travels through North and 
South Carolina, East and West Florida, &c. 
f)ublished in the year 1791. 

Several of Mr. Bartram's communications in 
zoology were published in the Philosophical 
Transactions, between the years 1743 and 1749. 
He published Observations on the Inhabitants, 
CUmate, Soil, &c. made in a Tour from Penn- 
sylvania to Onondago, London, 1751; Descrip- 
ion of East Florida, 4to. 1774. 



Th LIFE OF BESEZET. 



BENEZET. 

AnthoiNV Benezet, a philanthropist of Phi- 
ladelphia, was born at St. Q,nintus, a town in 
the province of Picardy, France, on the 31st of 
January, 1713. About the lime of his birth the 
persecution against the Protestants was carried 
on with relentless severity; in consequence of 
which many thousands found it necessary to 
leave their native country, and seek a shelter in 
foreign lands. Among these were his parents, 
who removed to London in February, 1715, and 
after remaining there upwards of sixteen years, 
came to Philadelphia in November, 1731. Du- 
ring their residence in Great Britain, they had 
imbibed the religious opinions of the society of 
Friends, and they were received into that body 
immediately after their arrival in this country. 

In the early part of his life Benezet was put 
an apprentice to a merchant; but soon after his 
marriage, when his affairs were in a prosperous 
situation, he left the mercantile business, that he 
might engage in some pursuit, which was not so 
adapted to excite or to promote a worldly spirit, 
and which would afford him more leisure for the 
duties of religion, and for the exercise of that 
benevolent spirit, for which, during the course 
of a long life, he was so conspicuous. But no 
employment, which accorded perfectly with his 
inclination, presented itself till the year 1742, 
when he accepted the appointment of instructor 
in the Friends' English School of Philadelphia. 



LIFE or BE.\fi2ivr. rr 

The duties of the honourable, though not very 
lucrative office of a teacher of youth, he from 
this period continued to fulfil with unremitting 
assiduity and delight, and with very little inter- 
mission till his death. During the two last years 
of his life, his zeal to do good induced him to 
resign the school, which he had long superin- 
tended, and to engage in the instruction of the 
blacks. In doing this, he did not consult his 
worldly interests, but was influenced by a regard 
to the welfare of that miserable class of beings, 
whose minds had been debased by servitude. 
He wished to contribute something towards ren- 
dering them fit for the enjoyment of that free- 
dom to which many of them had been restored. 
So great was his sympathy with every being 
capable of feeling pain, that he resolved towards 
Lhe close of his life to eat no animal food. About 
a year before his decease, his health became 
iiiuch impaired; but being of a lively disposition, 
rery temperate, and zealously concerned to oc- 
upy his talents to the last, he supported his 
school till he was quite disabled from per/brming 
he duties of it. But his charity and benefi- 
cence continued with life. He died on the 3d 
|)f May, 1784, in the seventy-second year of his 

Such was (he general esteem in which he 

jvas held, that his funeral was attended by per- 

lons of all religious denominations. Many hun- 

red negroes followed their friend and benefac- 

or to the grave, and by their tears they proved, 

lat they possessed the sensibility of men. An 

g2 



rS LIFE OF BENEZET. 

officer, who had served in the army during the 
war with Great Britain, observed at this time, 
" I would rather be Anthony Benezet in that 
coffin, than George Washington with all his 
fame/" 

He exhibited uncommon activity and industry 
in every thing which he undertook. He used 
to say that the highest act of charity was to bear 
with the unreasonableness of mankind. So dis- 
posed was he to make himself contented in every 
situation, that when his memory began to fail 
him, instead of lamenting the decay of his pow- 
ers, he said to a young friend, " This gives me 
one great advantage over you; for you can find 
entertainment in reading a book only once, but 
I enjoy that pleasure as often as I read it, for it 
is always new to me."' Few men, since the days 
of the apostles, ever lived a more disinterested 
life: yet upon his death bed he expressed his de- 
sire to live a little longer, " that he might bring 
down self.'' The last time he ever walked across 
his room, was to take from his desk six dollars, 
which Ke gave to a poor widow, whom he had 
long assisted to maintain. In his conversation 
he was affable and unreserved; in his manners 
gentle and conciliating. For the acquisition of 
wealth he wanted neither abilities nor opportu- 
nity; but he made himself contented with a 
little, and with a competency he wa& liberal be- 
yond most of those whom a bountiful Providence 
had encumbered with riches. By his will, he 
devised his estate, after the decease of his wife. 



HFE OF BENEZET. 79 

to certain trustees for the use of the African 
school. 

During the time the British army was in pos- 
session of Philadelphia, he was indefatigable in 
his endeavours to render the situation of the per- 
sons, who suffered from captivity, as easy as pos- 
sible. He knew no fear in the presence of a 
fellow man, however dignified by titles or sta- 
tion; and such was the propriety and gentleness 
of his manners, in his intercourse with the gen- 
tlemen who commanded the British and Ger- 
man troops, that when he could not obtain the 
object of his request, he never failed to secure 
their civilities and esteem. 

Though the life of Benezet was passed in the 
instruction of youth, yet his expansive benevo- 
lence extended itself to a wider sphere of useful- 
ness. Giving but a small portion of his time to 
sleep, he employed his pen both day and night 
in writing books on religious subjects, composed 
chiefly with a view to inculcate the peaceable 
temper and doctrines of the gospel in opposition 
to the spirit of war, and to expose the flagrant 
injustice of slavery, and fix the stamp of infamy 
on the traffic in human blood. His writings 
contributed much towards meliorating the con- 
dition of slaves, and undoubtedly had influence 
on the public mind in effecting the complete 
prohibition of that trade, which, till the year 
1808, was a blot on the American national cha- 
racter. 

To disseminate his publications and increase 
his usefulness, he held a correspondence with 



80 LIFE OF BENEZET. 

such persons in various parts of Europe and 
America, as united with him in the same bene- 
volent design, or would be likely to promote the 
objects which he was pursuing. No ambitious 
or covetous views impelled him to his exertions. 
Regarding all mankind as children of one com- 
mon Father, and members of one great family, 
he was anxious that oppression and tyranny 
should cease, and that men should live together 
in mutual kindness and affection. He himself 
respected, and he wished others to respect, the 
sacred injunction, " do unto others as you would 
that they should do unto you." It may indeed 
be said of him, that his whole life was spent in 
going about doing good to men. He appear- 
ed to do every thing as if the words of his Sa- 
viour were continually sounding in his ears: 
" Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's 
business.^" 

On the return of peace in 1783, apprehend- 
ing that the revival of commerce would be likely 
to renew the African slave trade, which during 
the war had been in some measure obstructed, 
he addressed a letter to the queen of Great Bri- 
tain, to solicit her influence on the side of huma- 
nity. At the close of this letter he says, " I hope 
thou wilt kindly excuse the freedom used on this 
occasion by an ancient man, whose mind for 
more than forty years past has been much sepa- 
rated from the common course of the world, and 
long painfully exercised in the consideration of 
the miseries under which so large a part of man- 
kind, equally with us the objects of redeeming 



itFE or warhen. 81 

love, are suffering the most unjust and grievous 
oppression, and who sincerely desires the tem- 
poral and eternal felicity of the queen and her 
royal consort." 

He published, among other tracts, A Cau- 
tion to Great Britain and her Colonies in a short 
Representation of the calamitous State of the 
enslaved Negroes in the British Dominions, 
1767; Some Historical Account of Guinea, with 
an Inquiry into the Rise and Progress of the 
Slave Trade, 1771; Observations on the Indian 
Natives of this Continent, 1784. % 



WARREN. 



Joseph Warren, a major general in the 
American army, was born at Roxbury, near Bos- 
ton, in the year 1741. He was educated at Har- 
vard university, where he was highly distinguish- 
ed as a scholar, and had an honourable part in the 
performances of the day on which he gradtiated ; 
which w as in 1 759. Shortly after, he gained a 
premium which was offered by some gentlemen 
of the province for the best poem on occasion 
of the death of George II, and succession of 
George HI. Having completed the usual course 
of medical studies, he established himself as a 
physician at Boston, where he soon acquired an 
extensive practice, and arrived at the highest 
eminence in the profession. Had he been de- 
sirous of wealth, or ambitious onlv of eminence 



82 I.IFE OF WARREN. 

in his profession, his opportunities were such as 
might have gratified his highest wishes. 

But the oppressive acts of the Enghsh govern- 
ment had excited an alarm, and Dr. Warren 
took too deep an interest in the affairs of the 
country, and felt too strongly the dangers that 
threatened it, to suffer himself to be engrossed 
by private business, when his exertions might 
be of some use to the public. After the passing 
of the stamp act, he undertook a serious exami- 
nation of the right of parliament to tax the colo- 
nie# and as his time was not at his command 
during the day, his nights were spent in this in- 
vestigation. When he had satisfied himself that 
no such right existed, he was indefatigable in 
his exertion to produce the same conviction on 
the minds of others. He devoted himself to the 
common cause with a zeal extremely prejudicial 
to his private interests. While he was engaged 
in disseminating the great truths he had learned, 
his pecuniary affairs were neglected and became 
greatly deranged. Young and ardent, with a 
fine person, engaging manners, and a kind and 
generous disposition, he enjoyed the affection 
and confidence of all classes; and was thus ena- 
bled to exert an influence extremely beneficial 
to the cause he had espoused. By his writings 
in the newspapers, his public speeches and ora- 
tions, he laboured to infuse his own ardour into 
the breasts of his fellow citizens. Probably no 
man did more to excite and sustain the spirit of 
opposition to British tyranny, for which Boston 
was so early distinguished. Among his publica- 



LIFE 6¥ WARREX. 83 

tions, one that particularly atti'acted tlie notice 
of government, was a letter to governor Bernard, 
in 1768, signed "A True Patriot/' concluding 
with the quotation from Rochester — 

"If such men are by God appointed, 
"The devil may be the Lord's anointed." 

The governor sent a message to the house, 
and another to the council, complaining of it as 
a libel. The council concurred with his excel- 
lency that the author ought to be punished: the 
house expressed a different opinion. It was 
brought before the grand jury, who, howevei", 
would not find a bill. In another piece the au- 
thor vindicates himself from the charge of im- 
piety brought by the council; and from that of 
disrespect to his excellency, by alleging that the 
obnoxious expressions could not be applied to 
any one who was not conscious of the justice of 
them. 

It is said in EUiot's Biographical Dictionary, 
that from 1768 a number of politicians met at 
each other's houses, to discuss public affairs, and 
settle upon the best methods of serving the town 
and country. Many of them filled public offices, 
but their meetings were private and had a silent 
influence on the public body. In 1772, they 
increased their number to more than sixty, by 
the addition of some substantial mechanics. 
Their regulations were drawn up by Dr. War- 
ren and another gentleman, and they never did 
any thing important without consulting him and 
his particular friends. By this body of men the 



84 LIFE or AVARREN. 

most important matters were decided. They 
agreed who should be in town offices, in the ge- 
neral court, in the provincial congress from Bos- 
ton. Here the committees of public safety were 
formed, the plan for military companies, and all 
necessary means of defence. They were guided 
by the prudence and skilful management of Dr. 
Warren, who, with all his zeal and irritability, 
was a man well calculated to carry on any se- 
cret business; and no man ever did manifest 
more vigilance, circumspection and care. 

He twice delivered the annual oration com- 
memorative of the massacre of the 5th of March, 
1770; viz. In 1772 and 1775. About a month 
before the last, some of general Gage^s officers 
declared they would assassinate any one who 
should dare to speak of the massacre on that 
day. As soon as these threats reached the ears 
of Dr. Warren, he expressed a desire to be 
again appointed, with some diffidence however 
of deserving the honour a second time. But as 
there were not many equally willing to brave the 
indignation of the military, his desire was grati- 
fied, and he was rechosen. The day was a fine 
one, and the Old South Meeting-house was so 
crowded that the orator was obliged to make his 
entrance by a ladder at the pulpit window. He 
found the pulpit already occupied by the British 
officers. Nevertheless, without any sign of tre- 
pidation, he delivered from the midst of them as 
warm an invective against British tyranny and 
cruelty as any ever pronounced on the occasion. 
To form an idea of its effect, we must consider 



LItiK OF WAltRliX. 85 

le circumstances under which it was delivered. 
a 1770, two regiments had been arbitrarily sta- 
oned in Boston, to support the authority of go- 
ernment. Their presence caused a disgust, 
lat gave rise to those disturbances which ter- 
linated in the slaughter of several of the citi- 
ens. The commotion excited by this event 
ad obliged the commanders at that time to with- 
raw the troops. But to keep alive the feelings 
f the occasion, and cherish the hatred to mili- 
iry interference, this annual celebration was in- 
ituted, and the inhabitants had till now regu- 
irly assembled to hear the story of their wrongs, 
lid to consecrate the day by resolutions of a 
snewed and more determined spirit of freedom, 
lie troops had now returned in greater force, 
)r the express purpose of overa^ving the rebel- 
ous town; and the people were daily irritated 
y the insulting display of their power, by the 
intentions constantly taking place, and by the 
pxatious restraints necessarily arising from the 
resence of a hostile soldiery. The leaders of 
I at soldiery, in the insolence of power, had de- 
ared that the usual celebration should not take 
ace. But the people, upon whom threats had 
I (ver had any other effect than to excite to more 
porous opposition, had now assembled with the 
I termination not to resign their privileges with- 
f t a struggle. We may imagine the feelings 
th which they saw the sanctuary of their reli- 
)n and liberty violated; and the excitement 
th which they listened as their orator recalled 
their memories the bloody scene in State 

H 



86 J,IFE OF WAUREiX. 

street, while they saw befoi-e them the actors in 
that scene, threatening a repetition. The Bri- 
tish officers, warned by the animation which 
they saw in the assembly, prudently abstained 
from putting their threats into execution. Had 
they attempted it, the second fifth of March 
^vould probably have been distinguished for a 
deeper tragedy than the first. 

Dr. Warren uniformly maintained the opinion 
that Americans were able to obtain and defend 
their rights. He did not however think it was 
to be done by petitions and remonstrances. He 
did not believe that the British ministry were to 
be prevailed upon to alter their measures by 
prayers and entreaties; or that a dearly cherish- • 
ed scheme of revenue would be given up from j 
a mere conviction of the justice of the case. He| 
believed that we must go through an arduous, 
struggle, and that much blood must be shed be-i 
fore it was ended. But he had a high opinion jl 
of the bravery of his countrymen, and never! 
doubted that it would carry them successfully 
through the contest. He sometimes expressed j 
a belief that in that contest his own blood wouW i 
be poured out; and seemed willing that such j 
should be the event, if it would benefit his 
country. 

In the year 1774, he succeeded Hancock, as 
president of the provincial congress. On the 
evening of the 18th of April, 1775, he discover- 
ed the design of General Gage to seize upon the jj 
stores at Concord. He immediately despatch 
a number of expresses by different routes 



LIFE OF WARREN. 87 

Lexington. Some of them were taken by Eng- 
lish officers, posted on the roads for the pur- 
})ose, hut others escaped and reached Lexmg- 
ton in time to give the alarm, and prepare the 
militia for the engagement which took place the 
next day. He himself hastened to the scene of 
action, and was engaged in the hottest part of 
it* In the course of it, a ball grazed his hair, 
and took off a lock close to his ear. There 
were frequent alarms about this time. Dr. War- 
ren was always ready at the moment, and flew 
to the spot where an action was expected. He 
was engaged in some skirmishes that actually 
occurred. 

It is said in the biography above jjientioned, 
that the undisciplined army so irregulaily col- 
lected at Cambridge, were kept together by the 
exertions of a few, "among whom generals 
Ward and Putnam were distinguished; the one 
for his firm and prudent conduct, and the other 
lor his romantic courage. Dr. Warren was, 
perhaps, the man who had the most influence, 
and in whom the people in the environs of Bos- 
ton and Cambridge placed their highest confi- 
dence, and he did wonders in preserving order 
among the troops.^' 

It was lor his activity, energy and courage, 
that he v^as appointed major general; for he had 
never before been a military man or a parade 
soldier. This appointment was made about four 
days before the battle of Bunker's hill. It is 
probable that he received his commission the 
dav before. On the 16th of June he had a con- 



88 LIFE OF WARREN. 

versation with Mr. Gerry, at Cambridge, respect- 
ing the (leterm illation of Congress to take pos- 
session of Bunker's hill. He said that for himself 
he had been opposed to it, but that the majority 
had determined upon it, and he would hazard 
his life to carry their determination into effect. 
Mr. Gerry expressed in strong terms his disap- 
probation of the measure, as the situation w^as 
such, that it would be in vain to attempt to hold 
it; adding, "' but if it must be so, it is not worth 
while for you to be present; it will be madness 
to expose yourself, where your destruction will 
be almost inevitable.'' "I know it,^' he an- 
swered; "but I live within the sound of their 
cannon; |jow could I hear their roaring in so 
glorious a cause, and not be there!" Again Mr. 
Gerry remonstrated, and concluded with saying, 
" As surely as you go there, you will be slain." 
General Warren replied enthusiastically, " Dulce 
et decorum est pro patria mori." The next day 
his principles were sealed with his blood. Hav- 
ing spent the greater part of the night in public 
business at Watertown, he arrived at Cam- 
bridge at about five o'clock in the morning, and 
being unwell, threw himself on a bed. About 
noon he was informed of the state of prepara- 
tion for battle at Charlestown; he immediately 
arose, saying he was well again, and mounting 
a horse, rode to the place. He arrived at 
Breed's hill a short time before the action com- 
menced. Colonel Prescot, "the brave," (as 
Washington was afterwards in the habit of call- 
ing him) was then the actual commanding offi- 



LIVE or WAKUEX. 89 

cer. He came up to general Warren to resign 
his command, and asked what were his orders. 
General Warren told him he came not to com- 
mand but to learn; and having, as it is said, bor- 
rowed a musket and cartouch box from a ser- 
geant who was retiring, he mingled in the thick- 
est of the tight, animating and encouraging the 
men more by his example than it was possible 
to do in any other way. He fell after the re- 
treat commenced, at some distance in the rear 
of the redoubt. A ball passed through his head, 
and killed him almost instantly. His body was 
thrown info the ground where he fell, in com- 
pany with several others. Ten months after, a 
native of Great Britain, who was in Boston at 
the time of the battle, came to his friends, and 
told them he could point out the spot where the 
general was buried. He was offered a reward 
if his information should be correct; and two 
brothers of the general, with some other gentle- 
men, accompanied him to the field. A sexton 
commenced digging on the spot he pointed out, 
and a coipse soon began to appear. The bro- 
thers, unable to remain longer, retired, having 
informed the other gentlemen that their brother 
might be distinguished by a particular false tooth. 
He was identified accordingly, and brought to 
Boston, where an eulogy was pronounced over 
'him by Perez Morton, esq. on the 8th of April, 
1776. 

On the third of April, the same day the body 
was discovered, a resolution was passed by the 
council and house of representatives, authorizing 
H 2 



90 LIFE OF WARRKX. 

the freemasons to remove the body and bury it 
with their usual solemnities " in such a manner 
that the government of this colony may here- 
after have an opportunity of erecting a monu- 
ment to the memory of this valiant and patriotic 
American." Dr. Warren had in 1773, by com- 
mission from the earl of Dumfries, grand master 
of the masons in Scotland, been appointed grand 
master of masons for the continent of America. 
The masons of Charlestown erected the monu- 
ment to his memory now standing on Breed's 
hill. On the Stii of April, 1777, the general 
congress passed the following resolution: — That 
a monument be erected to the memory of gene- 
ral Warren in the town of Boston, with the fol- 
l<4wing inscription: 

In honour of 
JOSEPH WARREN, 

MAJOR GENERAL OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY. 

He devoted his life to the liberties 

of his country, 
and in bravely defending them, fell 

an early victim, 
in the 

DATTiE OF bunker's HILL, 

June 17, 1775. 

THE CONGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES, 

as an acknowledgment of his servises, 

and distinguished merit, 

have erected this monument 

to his memory. 

It was resolved likewise that the eldest son of 
general Warren should be educated from that 
time at the expense of the United States. 

On the first of July, 1780, Congress, recog- 



LIFE OF GREENE. 01 

nising their former resolutions, further resolved, 
that it should be recommended to the executive 
of Massachusetts Bay, to make provision for the 
maintenance and education of his three younger 
children. And that Congress would defray the 
expense to the amount of the half pay of a major 
general, to commence at the time of his death, 
and continue till the youngest of the children 
should be of age. The part of the resolutions 
relating to the education of the children was 
carried into effect accordingly. 



GREENE. 



Nathaniel Greene, a major general of the 
army of the United States, was born in War- 
wick, Rhode Island, about the year 1740. His 
parents were Q,uakers. His father was an an- 
chor smith, who was concerned in some valua- 
ble iron works, and transacted much business. 
While he was a boy, he learned the Latin 
tongue chiefly by his own unassisted industry. 
Having procured a small library, his mind was 
much improved, though the perusal of military 
history occupied a considerable share of his at- 
tention. Such was the estimation in which his 
character was held, that he was at an early pe- 
riod of his life chosen a member of the assem- 
bly of Rhode Island. After the battle of Lex- 
ington had enkindled at once the spirit of Ame- 
ricans throughout the whole continent, Mr. 
Greene, though educated in the peaceful princi- 



92 L1¥E OF GREENE. 

pies of the Friends, could not extinguish the 
martial ardour which had been excited in his 
own breast. Receiving the command of three 
regiments, with the title of brigadier general, he 
led them to Cambridge; in consequence of which 
the Quakers renounced all connexion with him 
as a member of their rehgious body. On the 
arrival of Washington at Cambridge, he was the 
first who expressed to the commander in chief 
his satisfaction in his appointment, and he soon 
gained his entire confidence. He was appointed 
by Congress major general in August, 1776. In 
the battles of Trenton, on the 26th of Decem- 
ber following, and of Princeton, on the 3d of Ja- 
nuary, 1777, he was much distinguished. He 
commanded the left wing of the American army 
at the battle of Germantown on the 4th of Oc- 
tober. In March, 1778, he was appointed quar- 
termaster general, which office he accepted on 
condition that his rank in the army should not 
be affected, and that he should retain his com- 
mand in the time of action. This right he ex- 
ercised on the 28th of June, at the battle of 
Monmouth. His courage and skill were again 
displayed on the 29th of August in Rhode Island. 
He resigned in this year the office of quarter- 
master general, and was succeeded by colonel 
Pickering. After the disasters which attended 
the American arms in South Carolina, he was 
appointed to supersede Gates, and took the 
command in the southern department, Decem- 
ber 3d, 1 780. Having recruited the army, which 
had been exceedingly reduced by defeat and de- 



LIFE OJ? GREENE. 93 

t^crtion, he sent out a detachment under the 
brave general Moi'gan, who gained the impor- 
tant victory at the Con pens, January 17th, 1781. 
Greene effected a junction with him on the 7th 
of February; but on account of the superior 
numbers of Cornwall is, he retreated with great 
skill to Virginia. Having received an accession 
to his forces, he returned to North Carolina, and 
in the battle of Guildford, on the 15th of March, 
was defeated. The victory, however, was dearly 
bought by the British, for their loss was greater 
than that of the Americans, and no advantages 
were derived from it. In a few days Cornwallis 
began to march towards Wilmington, leaving 
many of his wounded behind him, which had 
the appearance of a retreat, and Greene follow- 
ed him for some time. But altering his plan, he 
resolved to recommence offensive operations in 
South Carolina. He accordingly marched di- 
rectly to Camden, where, on the 25ih of April, 
he was engaged with lord Rawdon. Victory in- 
clined for some time to the Americans, but the 
retreat of two companies occasioned the defeat 
of the whole army. Greene retreated in good 
order, and took such measures as effectually 
prevented lord Rawdon from improving his suc- 
cess, and obliged him in the beginning of May 
to retire beyond the Santee. While he was in 
the neighbourhood of Santee, Greene hung in 
one day eight soldiers who had deserted from 
his aruiy. For three months afterwards no in- 
stance of desertion took place. A number of 
forts and garrisons in South Carolina now fell 



54 LIFE OF GEEENK. 

into his hands. He commenced tlie siege of 
Ninety Six on the 22d of May, but he was 
obHged on the approach of lord Rawdon in 
June to raise the siege. The army, which had 
been highly encouraged by the late success, was 
now reduced to the melancholy necessity of re- 
treating to the extremity of the state. The Ame- 
rican commander was advised to retire to Vir- 
ginia; but to suggestions of this kind he rephed, 
" I will recover South Carolina, or die in the 
attempt.'^ Waiting till the British forces were 
divided, he faced about, and lord Rawdon was 
pursued in his turn, and was offered battle after 
he reached his encampment at Orangeburgh, 
but he declined it. On the 8th of September, 
Greene covered himself with glory by the vic- 
tory at the Eutaw Springs, in which the British, 
who fought with the utmost bravery, lost eleven 
hundred men, and the Americans about half that 
number. For his good conduct in this action, 
Congress presented him with a British standard 
and a golden medal. This engagement may be 
considered as closing the revolutionary war in 
South Carolina. During the remainder of his 
command, he had to struggle with the greatest 
difficulties from the want of supplies for his 
troops. Strong symptoms of mutiny appeared, 
but his firmness and decision completely quell- 
ed it. 

After the conclusion of the war, he returned 
to Rhode Island, where the greatest dissentions 
prevailed; and his endeavours to restore har- 
mony were attended with success. In October. 



Llii: OF GREENE. 95 

1785, he sailed to Georgia, where he had a con- 
siderable estate, not far distant from Savannah. 
Here he passed his time as a private citizen, oc- 
cupied by domestic concerns. While walking 
without an umbrella, the intense rays of the 
sun overpowered him, and occasioned an inflam- 
mation of the brain, of which he died, June 19th, 

1786, in the forty-seventh year of his age. In 
August following, Congress ordered a monu- 
ment to be erected to his memory at the seat of 
the federal government. 

General Greene possessed a humane and be- 
nevolent disposition, and abhorring the cruelties 
and excesses of which partizans on both sides 
were guilty, he uniformly inculcated a spirit of 
moderation. Yet he was resolutely severe, when 
the preservation of discipline rendered severity 
necessary. In the campaign of 1781, he dis- 
played the prudence, the military skill, the un- 
shaken firmness, and the daring courage, which 
are seldom combined, and which place him in 
the first rank of American officers. His judg- 
ment was correct, and his self possession never 
once forsook him. In one of his letters he says, 
that he was seven months in the field without 
taking oflT his clothes for a single night. It is 
thought that he was the most endeared to the 
commander in chief of all his associates in arms. 
Washington often lamented his death with the 
keenest sorrow. 



90 Llf ii OF FR.VMCLIN. 



FRANKLIN. 

Benjamin Franklin, L.L.D. an American 
philosopher and pohtician of high celebrity, was 
born at Boston, New England, in the year 1706. 
He was the youngest son of Josiah Franklin, a 
silk dyer in Northamptonshire, who, on account 
of the persecutions carried on in the reign of 
Charles the Second against the Nonconformists, 
removed to America, where he embraced the 
occupation of a soapboiler and tallowchandler, 
reared a numerous family by honest industry, 
and was distinguished among his townsmen as a 
person of sound judgment and sober piety. His 
other sons were put apprentices to different 
trades; but Benjamin was destined for the 
church, and, at the ag^ of eight years, was sent 
to a grammar school. He was removed, how- 
ever, at the end of the first year, to a school for 
writing and arithmetic; and at ten years of age 
was taken home to assist in his father's occu- 
pation. 

From his earliest years he discovered a pas- 
sionate love of reading, especially the accounts 
of voyages; and he mentions Plutarch's Lives, 
and De Foe's Essay on Projects, as among the 
few books of general information to which he 
had access. This inclination for books, and the 
strong aversion which he showed to the occupa- 
tion of his father, suggested the plan of binding 
him apprentice to one of his brothers, who had 
established a printing house at Boston. In this 



jLlFii OF FRANKLIX. 97 

Situation, he had an opportunity of procuring 
better books, and pursued his studies with such 
avidity, that he frequently spent the whole night 
in reading. He soon began to commit nis own 
thoughts to writing; and by making summaries 
of papers from the Spectator, which he after- 
wards endeavoured to expand, from recollection, 
into their original form, he Hlboured to improve 
his style without any other instructor. With a 
passion for reading and writing, he imbibed a 
kindred one for disputation, and adopting the 
Socratic method, he became dexterous in con- 
futing and confounding an antagonist by a series 
of questions. This course gave him a sceptical 
turn with regard to religion; and while he was 
young he took every opportunity of propagating 
his tenets, and with as much zeal as is shown 
by a new convert to any other doctrine. He 
was, however, soon convinced, by the effect pro- 
duced on some of his companions, that it was 
extremely dangerous to loosen the ties of reli- 
gion, without the probability of substituting other 
principles equally efficacious. The doubts which 
subsisted in his own mind he was, perhaps, never 
fully able to remove; but he was not deficient 
in fortifying himself with such moral principles, 
as directed him to the most valuable ends by ho- 
nourable means. He, by habits of self denial, 
early formed in his mind, obtained a complete 
dominion over his appetites, so that at the age of 
sixteen he readily discarded animal food, from 
the conviction produced in his mind by perusing 
a work on the subject. He now proposed to 



98 J.IIE OF IKV^KLIN. 

his brother, that if he would allow him per week 
one half of what was paid for his board, he would 
undert^e to maintain himself Out of this little 
fund h* contrived to purchase books, as well as 
to pay for his subsistence, and, by his new mode 
of living, saved much time for his favourite pur- 
suits. 

Receiving some* ill treatment from his bro- 
ther, he determined to leave Boston, and seek 
employment elsewhere. The brother had set 
up a newspaper, in which the apprentice con- 
trived to insert some papers and essays anony- 
mously, that were read and highly commended 
by persons of the best judgment and taste in the 
town. The young man began now to feel his 
importance, which was still more impressed on 
him by having the paper published in his own 
name, that of his brother, for some political of- 
fence, having been interdicted by the state. In 
consequence of this, his indentures were can- 
celled. He went on board a sloop, and soon 
arrived at New York. Finding no employment 
here, he pursued his way to Philadelphia, and 
entered the city destitute of friends, and with 
only a dollar in his pocket. There were at this 
time two printers in Philadelphia, Mr. Andrew 
Bradford, and Mr. Keimer; by the latter of 
whom he was employed. Sir William Keith, 
the governor, having been informed that Frank- 
lin was a young man of promising talents, invited 
him to his house, treated him in the most friend- 
ly manner, and urged him to set up for himself; 
at the same time assuring him of his support and 



T.IFE OF FKANKLIX. 99 

protection. Franklin attempted to gain pecu- 
niary aid from his parents, but was disappointed. 
The governor then persuaded him to make a 
voyage to England, to furnish himself witli all 
the necessaries for a new printing office. He 
embraced the proposal, and accompanied by his 
friend Ralph, he sailed for England in 1725. 
Before his departure, he exchanged promises of 
fidelity with Miss Read of Philadelphia, with 
whose father he had lodged. Upon his arrival 
in London, Mr. Franklin found that governor 
Keith, upon whose letters of credit and recom- 
mendation he had relied, had entirely deceived 
him. He was now obliged to work as a jour- 
neyman printer, and obtained employment in an 
office in Bartholomew-close. His friend did not 
so readily find the means of subsistence, and was 
a constant drain upon the earnings of Franklin. 
In this great city the morals of the young tra- 
vellers were not much improved: Ralph forgot, 
or acted as if he had forgotten, that he had a 
wife and child across the Atlantic; and Frank- 
lin was as little attentive to the promises and en- 
gagements he was under to Miss Read. About 
this period he published " A Dissertation on Li- 
berty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain," dedi- 
cated to Ralph, and intended as an answer to 
Wollaston^s " Religion of Nature." This piece 
gained for him some degree of reputation, and 
introduced him to the acquaintance of Dr. Man- 
deville, author of the " Fable of the Bees," and 
some other literary characters. Franklin was 
always temperate and industrious, and his habits 



1 00 LIFE OF PKANKLIX. 

in these respects were eventually the means of 
securing his morals, as well as of raising his for- 
tune. In tlie interesting account which he has 
left us of his own life, Mr. Franklin has given a 
narrative of the method which he took in re- 
forming the sottish habits of his fellow workmen 
in the second printing office in which he was 
engaged in London, and which was situated in 
the neighbourhood of LincolnVinn-fields. He 
tried to persuade them that there was more real 
sustenance in a penny roll than in a pint of por- 
ter. At first the plan of economy which he pro- 
posed was treated with contempt or ridicule, 
but in the end he was able to induce several of 
them to substitute a warm and nourishing break- 
fast in the place of stimulating liquors. 

In 1726 he returned to Philadelphia, where 
he first engaged himself as a clerk in a mercan- 
tile house; and in the course of a year he be- 
came the superintendent of Keimer's printing 
office, where he acquired so much esteeui and 
so far improved his connexions, tliat he resolved 
to embark in business for himself He entered 
into partnership with a fellow workman, named 
Meredith, whose friends were enabled to furnish 
a supply of money sufficient for the concern, 
which was no doubt very small; for Franklin 
has recorded the high degree of pleasure which 
he experienced from a payment of five shillings 
only, the first fruits of their earnings. " The 
recollection," says this noble spirited man, " of 
what I felt on this occasion, has rendered me 
more disposed, than perhaps I might otherwise 



LIFE OF FUANKLIX. 101 

have been, to encourage young beginners in 
trade." His habitual industry and undeviating 
punctuality obtained him the notice and business 
of the principal people in the place. He insti- 
tuted a club under the name of " The Junto," 
for the purpose of the discussion of political and 
philosophical questions, which proved an excel- 
lent school for the mutual improvement of its 
several members. The test proposed to every 
candidate before his admission was this: "Do 
you sincerely declare that you love mankind in 
general, of what profession or religion soever .'^ 
Do you think any person ought to be harmed in 
his body, name, or goods, for mere speculative 
opinions, or his external way of worship.^ Do 
you love truth for truth's sake; and will you en- 
deavour impartially to find and receive it your- 
self, and communicate it to others.'*" This in- 
stitution was continued almost forty years, and 
became the foundation of the American Philo- 
sophical Society. 

Mr. Franklin and his partner ventured to set 
up a new public paper, which his own efforts 
as a writer and printer caused to succeed, and 
they obtained likewise the printing of the votes 
and laws of the assembly. In process of time, 
Meredith withdrew from the partnership, and 
Franklin met with friends who enabled him to 
take the whole concern in his own hands, and 
add to it the business of a stationer. A discus- 
sion concerning a new emission of paper money 
taking place, he wrote an anonymous pamphlet 
in favour of the measure, which was received 
i2 



102 llFE OP FRANKLiJf. 

with applause, and which contributed to the suc- 
cess of the measure, and to the prosperity of the 
writer. In 1730 he married the lady to whom 
he had pledged his vows before he embarked for 
England, although, from his neglect of her, she 
liad been before married to a man then dead. 

The establishment of a public library was one 
of the useful projects of Franklin, which he 
brought to effect in the year 1731. The bene- 
ficial influence of this institution was soon evi- 
dent. The cheapness of terms rendered it ac- 
cessible to every one. Hence a degree of infor- 
mation was extended among all classes of peo- 
ple, which is very unusual in other places. The 
example was soon followed. Libraries were es- 
tablished in various places; and they are now 
become very numerous in the United States, 
particularly in Pennsylvania. It is hoped that 
they will be still more widely extended, and that 
information will be every where increased. This 
will be the best security for maintaining our liber- 
ties. A nation of well informed men, who have 
been taught to know and prize the riglits which 
God has given them, cannot be enslaved. It is 
in the regions of ignorance alone that tyranny 
reigns. 

In 1732, he began to publish "Poor Richard^s 
Almanac,^^ a work which became remarkable 
by the number of excellent prudential maxims 
occasionally inserted in it; calculated by their 
conciseness, to be readily and indeliby impressed 
on the memory. They have been since collect- 
ed into a single piece, entitled, " The Way to 



LIFE or FRANKLIN. lOS 

Wealth/' which has been published in a variety 
of forms. 

The pohtical career of Benjamin Frankhn 
began in the year 1736, when he was appointed 
clerk to the general assembly of Pennsylvania; 
an office which he held for several years, till he 
was at length elected a representative. In the 
following year he obtained the valuable office of 
postmaster to the city of Philadelphia. In 1738 
he improved the police of the city, with respect 
to the dreadful calamity of fire, by forn)ing a so- 
ciety called a fire company, to which was after- 
wards added an insurance office against losses 
by fire. In the French war of 1744, he stood 
forth, and proposed a plan of voluntary associa- 
tion for defence, which was shortly joined by 
10,000 persons. Franklin was chosen colonel 
of the Philadelphia regiment, which he did not 
accept, on account of the pursuits in which he 
was then engaged. 

In all important discussions in the assembly, 
his presence was considered as indispensable. 
He seldom spoke, or exhibited any oratory; but 
by a single observation he sometimes determined 
the fate of a question. In the long controver- 
sies with the proprietaries or their governors, he 
took the most active part, and displayed a firm 
spirit of liberty. 

Pursuits of a different nature now (1745) be- 
gan to occupy his attention. He engaged in a 
course of electrical experiments. Of all the 
branches of experimental philosophy, electricity 
bad been least explored. The ancients had ob- 



104 LIFE OF FRANKLIN. 

served of some substances, that by friction they 
acquired the power of attracting light bodies, as 
down, pieces of straw, &c. To this strange pro- 
perty they gave the name of electricity, from 
electram, the Latin word for amber, which pos- 
sessed this power in the highest degree. Se- 
veral modern naturalists repeated the experi- 
ment; whence it was at length discovered, that 
sparkles of fire and streams of light were emit- 
ted from it to bodies in contact with it. The 
celebrated Boyle, Dr. Watson, Otto, Gruriche, 
and sir Isaac Newton, added some facts. In 
1742, several ingenious Germans engaged in 
this subject. Of these the principal were, pro- 
fessor Boze, of Wittemberg; professor Winkler, 
of Leipsic; Gordon, a Scotch Benedictine monk, 
professor of philosophy at Erfurt; and Dr. Lu- 
nolfj of Berlin. The result of their researches 
astonished the European philosophers. Their 
apparatus was large, and by means of it they 
were enabled to collect large quantities of elec- 
tricity, and thus to produce phenomena which 
had been hitherto unobserved. They killed 
small animals, and set spirits of wine on fire. 
Their experiments excited the curiosity of other 
philosophers. Peter Collinson had sent to the 
Library Society of Philadelphia, an account of 
these experiments, together with an electrical 
instrument, and directions for its use. Frank- 
lin, with some of his friends, immediately began 
to apply to the subject, and in a short time he 
made many valuable and highly important disco- 
veries, an account of which he published in three 



LIFE OF FRANKLIN. 105 

pieces, entitled "New Experiments and Obser- 
vations in Electricity, made at Philadelphia in 
America." Having been led to think, that in 
the excitation of the electric tube, the fluid was 
conveyed from the person who rubbed it to him 
who touched it, he designated the state of the 
latter by the expression of being electrified jwsi- 
tiveltj, or j)lus, as having received more than his 
original quantity, while the former was said to 
be electrified negatively, or minus, as having lost 
a part of his natural portion. This led to the 
discovery of the Leyden phial, the theory of 
which is, that when one side of the glass is elec- 
trified plus, the other side is electrified minus; 
so that in charging it, all that is done is to throw 
the electricity from one side, and convey it to 
the other, while discharging it is the restoration 
of the equilibrium. He further demonstrated, 
by decisive experiments, that the accumulated 
electricity in the charged side of the phinl, re- 
sided not in the coating, but in the glass itself; 
but the most brilliant of his discoveries was that 
which proved the identity of the electric fluid 
and lightning. Their similarity had been sus- 
pected by the Abbe Nollet, and some experi- 
ments had begun to be made in France towards 
the verification of the fact, but Franklin com- 
pleted the proof of it entirely by his own expei'i- 
ments. In the year 1749, he conceived the idea 
of explaining the phenomena of thunder gusts, 
and of the aurora borealis, upon electrical prin- 
ciples; he pointed out many particulars in which 
lightning and electi'icity agreed, and he adduced 



106 LIFE OF FRANKLliV. 

many facts, and reasonings from facts, in sup- 
port of his positions. In .the same year he 
thought of ascertaining the truth of his doctrine 
by drawing down the forked hghtning, by means 
of sharp pointed iron rods raised unto the region 
of the clouds. Admitting the identity of elec- 
tricity, and knowing the power of points in con- 
ducting away silently the electric fluid, he sug- 
gested the idea of securing houses, ships, &c. 
from the damages to which they were liable from 
lightning, by erecting pointed iron rods, which 
should rise some feet above the most elevated 
part, and descend some feet into the ground or the 
water. The effect of these, he concluded, would 
be either to prevent a stroke by repelhng the 
cloud beyond the striking distance, or by draw- 
ing olf the electrical fluid which it contained; or, 
at least, conduct the stroke to the earth, without 
any injury to the building. 

It was not till the summer of 1752, that Mr. 
Franklin was enabled to complete his grand ex- 
periment. The plan which he proposed was, to 
erect on some high tower, or elevated place, a 
sort of hut, from which should rise a pointed 
iron rod, insulated by being fixed in a cake of 
resin. Electrified clouds passing over this would, 
he conceived, impart to it a portion of their elec- 
tricity, which miglit be rendered evident to the 
senses by sparks being emitted, when the knuckle 
or other conductor was presented to it. While 
he was waiting for the erection of a spire, it oc- 
curred to him, that he might have more ready 
access to the region of the clouds bv means of 



LIFE OF FRANKLIN. lOr 

a common kite; he accordingly prepared one 
for the purpose, affixing to the upright stick an 
iron point. The string was, as usual, of hemp, 
except the lower end, which was silk, and where 
the hempen part terminated, a key was fasten- 
ed. With this simple apparatus, on the appear- 
ance of a thunder storm approaching, he went 
into the fields, accompanied by his son, to whom 
alone he communicated his intentions, dreading, 
probably, the ridicule which frequently awaits 
unsuccessful attempts in experimental philoso- 
phy. For some time no sign of electricity ap- 
peared; he was beginning to despair of success, 
when he suddenly observed the loose fibres of 
the string to start forward in an erect position. 
He now presented his knuckle to the key, and 
received a strong spark. How exquisite must 
his sensations have been at this moment? On 
this experiment depended the fate of his theory. 
Repeated sparks were drawn from the key; a 
phial was charged, a shock given, and all the 
experiments made, which are usually performed 
with electricity. He immediately fixed an insu- 
lated iron rod upon his house, which drew down 
the lightning, and gave him an opportunity of 
examining whether it were positive or negative; 
and hence he applied his discovery to the se- 
curing of buildings from the effects of lightning. 
Previously to his experiments in electricity, he 
applied his mechanical and philosophical know- 
ledge to the construction of fire-places, com- 
bining the qualities of an open grate with that 
of a stove. As a politician he had been elected 



108 LIFE OF rUAAKT-IN. 

a representative of the city of Philadelphia to 
the general assembly of the province. His prin- 
ciples in favour of equality of rights led him al- 
ways to take the popular side^ and he quickly 
obtained such an influence that he was regarded 
as the head of the party. The ability and punc- 
tuality which he had displayed in his office of 
postmaster, caused him, in 1753, to be raised to 
the important employ of deputy-postmaster for 
the British colonies; and in the same year, the 
Academy of Philadelphia, projected by him, was 
estabhshed. In 1 754, he was one of the com- 
missioners, who attended the Congress at Al- 
bany, to devise the best means of defending the 
country against the French. He drew up a 
plan of union for defence and general govern- 
ment, which was adopted by the Congress. It 
was, however, rejected by the Board of Trade 
in England, because it gave too much power to 
the representatives of the people; and it was re- 
jected by the assemblies of the colonies, because 
it gave too much power to the president gene- 
ral. After the defeat of Braddock, in 1 755, he 
was appointed colonel of a regiment, and he re- 
paired to the frontiers and built a fort. When, 
in 1757, the militia was to be disbanded by or- 
ders from England, he sailed for London in the 
capacity of agent for Pennsylvania, the assembly 
of which was involved in warm disputes with the 
proprietary interest. After much discussion be- 
fore the privy council, it was agreed, that the 
proprietary lands should take their share in a 
tax for the public service, provided that Frank- 



J-lfE OF FRANKLIN. 109 

lin would engage that the assessment should be 
fairly proportioned. The measure was accord- 
ingly carried into effect, and he remained at the 
British court as agent for his province; and his 
reputation caused him also to be entrusted with 
the like commission from Massachusetts, Mary- 
land, and Georgia. The molestation received 
by the British colonies from the French in Ca- 
nada, induced him to write a pamphlet, pointing 
out the advantages of a conquest of that pro- 
vince by the English; and the subsequent expe- 
dition against it, and its retention under the Bri- 
tish government at the peace, were, it is be- 
lieved, much influenced by the force of his argu- 
ments on the subject. About this period, his 
talents as a philosopher were duly appreciated 
in various parts of Europe. He was admitted a 
fellow of the Royal Society of London, and was 
honoured with the degree of doctor of laws by 
the universities of St. Andrews, Edinburgh, and 
Oxford. 

He returned to America in 1762, where he 
received the thanks of the assembly for his ser- 
vices, and a remuneration for his labours under- 
taken and accomplished on their behalf. He 
resumed his seat in that body, to which he had 
been annually elected during his absence, and 
continued to distinguish himself as a friend to 
the cause of the people. The active part which 
he took against the proprietary interest, occa- 
sioned the loss of his election in 1764, but he 
was immediately reappointed agent for the pro- 
vince, and embarked again for England. It was 

K 



1 10 lAFE 6\^ IRANKtIX. 

at this period that the stamp act excited sueli 
violent commotions in America; and Dr. Frank- 
Hn, almost immediately after his return to Lon- 
don, was called to the bar of the House of Com- 
mons, to give evidence respecting the disposi- 
tions of the people to submit to it. His repre- 
sentations, in which he evinced the utmost self 
possession and an astonishing accuracy and ex- 
tent of information, had a considerable effect in 
producing the repeal of that obnoxious measure. 

In the years 1766 and 1767, he paid visits to 
Holland, Germany and France, where he met 
with a very distinguished reception. About the 
year 1773, some letters of Thomas Hutchinson, 
governor of Massachusetts, falling into the hands 
of Dr. Franklin, were transmitted by him to the 
legislature in America, and which he did from 
a sense of duty as the agent of the colony, for 
these letters proved governor Hutchinson to be 
a secret enemy to his country, who stimulated 
the ministry to enforce their plans, and who 
even declared to them, that " there must be an 
abridgment of English liberties in colonial ad- 
ministration." But Dr. Franldin ever refused 
to make knowp how he procured these letters. 
In a very short time after this he was removed 
from his oflice of postmaster-general for America. 

Finding all his efforts to restore harmony be- 
tween Great Britain and the colonies useless, 
Dr. Franklin returned to America in 1775, just 
before the commencement of hostilities; and 
being named one of the delegates of the conti- 
nental congress, he had the principal share in 



IIFE or FRANKLIN. ill 

bringing about the revolution and declaration of 
independence on the part of America. He was 
sent by Congress to the camp before Boston, to 
confirm the army in their decisive measures, and 
to Canada to persuade the citizens to join in 
the common cause. In this mission, however, 
he was not successful. He was, in 1776, ap- 
pointed a committee with John Adams and Ed- 
ward Rutledge, to inquire into the powers with 
which lord Howe was invested, in regard to the 
adjustment of our differences with Great Bri- 
tain. When his lordship expressed his concern 
at being obliged to distress those whom he so 
much regarded. Dr. Franklin assured him that 
the Americans, out of reciprocal regard, would 
endeavour to lessen, as much as possible, the pain 
which he might feel on their account, by taking 
the utmost care of themselves. Dr. Franklin 
was decidedly in favour of a declaration of inde- 
pendence, and was appointed president of the 
convention assembled for the purpose of esta- 
blishing a new government for the state of Penn- 
sylvania. When it was determined by Congress 
to open a public negotiation with France, Dr. 
Franklin was fixed upon to go to that country, 
and he brought about the treaty of alliance of- 
fensive and defensive, which produced an imme- 
diate war between England and France. Dr. 
Franklin was one of the commissioners who, on 
the part of the United States, signed the provi- 
sional articles of peace in 1 782, and the defini- 
tive treaty in the following year. Before he left 
Europe, he concluded a treaty with Sweden and 



112 jLIFE OF FRANKXfJS-. 

Prussia. By the latter he obtained several most 
liberal and humane stipulations in favour of the 
freedom of commerce, and the security of pri- 
vate property during wai", in conformity to those 
principles which he had ever maintained on 
these subjects. Having seen the accomplish- 
ment of his wishes in the independence of his 
country, he requested to be recalled, and, after 
repeated solicitations, Mr. Jetferson was appoint- 
ed in his stead. On the arrival of his successor, 
he repaired to Havre de Grace, and crossing 
the English channel, landed at Newport in the 
Isle of Wight; from whence, after a favourable 
passage, he arrived safe at Philadelphia, in Sep- 
tember, 1785. Here he was received amidst 
the acclamations of a vast and almost innume- 
rable multitude, who had flocked from all parts 
to see him, and who conducted him in triumph 
to his own house, where in a few days he was 
visited by the members of Congress, and the 
principal inhabitants of Philadelphia. He was 
soon appointed president of the supreme execu- 
tive council, and, in 1787, he was a delegate to 
the grand convention which formed the consti- 
tution of the United States. Some of the arti- 
cles which composed it did not altogether please 
him, but for the sake of union he signed it. In 
the same year he was appointed the first presi- 
dent of two excellent societies, which were es- 
tablished in Philadelphia, for alleviating the mi- 
series of public prisons, and for promoting the 
abolition of slavery. 

In the year; 1788 the increasing infirmities of 



XIPE OF FBANKLIN. 1 1 5 

lis age obliged him to ask and obtain permission 

retire and spend the remainder of hfe in tran- 
[uillity; and on the seventeenth of April, 1790, 
le closed, in serenity and resignation, his active 
md useful life, having attained the great age of 
iighty-four years and three months. The fol- 
Qvving epitaph* was written by himself many 
ears previous to his death. 

The body of 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, PRINTER, 

like the cover of an old book, 

its contents torn out, 

and stript of its lettering and gilding, 

lies here, food for worms; 

Yet the work itself shall not be lost, 

for it will (as he believed) appear once more 

in a new 

and more beautiful edition, 

corrected and amended 

by 

THE AUTHOR. 

* It is probable that Dr. Franklin obtained the idea of 
rts famous epitaph on himself, from one on the Rev. John 
otten, an early and distinguished minister of the gospel 

1 New England, wlio died Dec. 23d, 1652. His epitaph, 
f the Rev. Benjamin Woodbridge, contains the following 
nes: 

A living, breathing bible; tables where 
Both covenants at large engraven were; 
Gospel and law in 's heart had each column-,, 
His head an index to the sacred volume; 
His very name a title page; and next 
His life a commentary on the text. 
O, what a monument of glorious worth, 
"When in a new edition he comes forth ! 
Without errata may we think he'll be 
In leaves and covers of eternity ! 
k2 



],14 lilFE OF TRANKLIN. 

Dr. Franklin was author of many tracts on 
electricity, and other branches of natural philo- 
sophy, as well as on political and miscellaneous . 
subjects. Many of his papers are inserted in 
the Philosophical Transactions of London ; and 
his Essays have been frequently reprinted in 
this country as well as in England, and have, in 
common with his other works, been translated 
into several modern languages. 

The life of Dr. Franklin affords a striking 
proof of the influence in society of a sound un- 
derstanding, united with steady industry, and 
supported by candid integrity, and presents a 
useful lesson to all young persons of unsteady 
principles and showy accomphshments. His 
writings and discoveries also, on so many sub- 
jects of practical utility, produced, without any 
advantages of regular education, or literary so- 
ciety, forcibly illustrate how far a vigorous and 
well directed mind may carry its possessor, with- 
out the minutiae of learning and the theories of 
science. He has distinguished himself in va- 
rious departments of knowledge, in natural phi- 
losophy, in political economy, in general litera- 
ture, and in practical morality. His physical 
speculations were almost uniformly suggested 
by views of utility, and were distinguished by 
the unparalleled facility with which he conducts 
his reader from one step of the inquiry to ano- 
ther, without even seeming to be at any loss, or 
to exert any labour in the process. His political 
writings were directed too much to temporary 
questions to be permanently interesting; but his 



liFH OF FEANKllxV. IIJ 

pamphlet on Canada, and his papers on the "Al- 
bany Plan of Union," have been recommended 
as valuable models of strong reasoning and po- 
pular eloquence. On the general doctrines of 
the principle of population, and the freedom of 
commerce, and the practical points of the corn 
trade, and the theory of money, his sentiments 
are considered as correct and clear; but on the 
more abstract subjects of the value of manufac- 
•tures, and the effects of paper currency, he is 
thought to be inaccurate and superficial, not so 
much from any flaw in his deductions, as from 
the insufficiency of his data. On subjects of 
morality, especially on those virtues which apply 
to the great body of mankind, his compositions 
are admirably adapted to accomplish their ob- 
ject, by their clearness, their soundness, their 
kindliness, their concise expression and pointed 
illustration. Tn respect of literary qualities his 
style is often deficient in elegance, sometimes 
both puerile and vulgar; but always distinguish- 
ed by simpHcity of language and perspicuity of 
statement. He has been called the most rational 
of all philosophers, never losing sight of common 
sense in any of his speculations, or yielding up 
his understanding either to enthusiasm or au- 
thority. 

In his personal and moral character. Dr. 
Franklin was distinguished by industry and ap- 
plication to whatever he undertook, by the most 
active observation of whatever was passing 
around him, by acuteness and penetration in all 
his intercourse with men, or inquiries after 



116 XIFE OF^RANKtlN. 

truth. He was modest and unassuming in pi'o- 
posing his sentiments, communicating even his 
greatest discoveries only as queries or conjec- 
tures; yet uniformly cheerful and playful in con- 
versation, enlivening every topic with entertain- 
ing anecdotes and harmless pleasantries. He 
was actively benevolent, and invariably upright; 
and tliough in the early part of his life sceptical 
in religion, yet he became, in maturer years, 
more friendly to devout sentiments, and, con- 
trary to the general opinion, is affirmed by his 
intimate friend. Dr. William Smith, to have been 
a believer in divine revelation. The humble 
piety, at least, of the following acknowledgment 
in his Memoirs, written by himself, cannot be 
doubted, and is worthy of being recorded:— 
^'And here let me with all humility acknowledge, 
that to Divine Providence I am indebted for 
the felicity I have hitherto enjoyed. It is that 
power alone which has furnished me with the 
means I have employed, and that has crowned 
tliem with success. My faith in this respect 
leads me to hope, though I cannot count upon 
it, that the divine goodness will still be exercised 
towards me, either by prolonging the duration 
of my happiness to the close of life, or by giving 
me fortitude to support any melancholy reverse 
which may happen to me as to many others. 
My future fortune is unknown but to Him, in 
whose hand is our destiny, and who can make 
our very afflictions subservient to our benefit." 
He left behind him one son, governor Wil- 
liam Franklin of New Jersey, a zealous royalist. 



JAFE OF HA?ftOCK. 11* 



and a daughter, who married Mr. William 
Bache, merchant in Philadelphia. 



HANCOCK. 

John Hancock, L. L. D. governor of Mas- 
sachusetts, was the son of the reverend Mr. 
Hancock, of Braintree, and was born about the 
year 1737. He was graduated at Harvard Col- 
lege in 175i. On the death of his uncle, Tho- 
mas Hancock, esquire, he received a very con- 
siderable fortune, and soon became an eminent 
merchant. In 1766 he was chosen a member 
of the house of representatives for Boston, with 
James Otis, Thomas Gushing, and Samuel 
Adams. The seizure of his sloop Liberty, in 
1768, for evading the laws of trade, occasioned 
a riot, and several of the commissioners of the 
customs narrowly escaped with their lives. As 
the controversy with Great Britain assumed a 
more serious shape, and affairs were hastening 
to a crisis, Mr. Hancock evinced his attachment 
to the rights of his countiy. He was president 
of the Provincial Congress in 1774. On the 
twelfth of June of the following year, general 
Gage issued his proclamation, oflfering pardon 
to all the rebels, excepting Samuel Adams and 
Jolin Hancock, " whose offences," it is declared, 
" are of too flagitious a nature to admit of any 
other consideration, than that of condign punish- 
ment." Mr. Hancock was at this time a mem- 
ber of the Continental Congress, of which he 



118 LIFE OF HANCOCK. 

was chosen president on the twenty-fourth of 
May, in the place of Peyton Randolph, who was 
under the necessity of leturning home. In this 
office, as the head of the illustrious Congress of 
1776, he signed the declaration of independence. 
In consequence of the ill state of his iiealth, he 
took his leave of Congress in Octoher, 1777, and 
received tlieir thanks for his unremitted atten- 
tion and steady impartiality, in discharging the 
duties of his office. Henry Laurens was his 
successor. 

On the adoption of the present constitution of 
Massachusetts, he was chosen the first governor 
in October, 1780, and was annually re-elected 
and continued in that office till February, 1785, 
when he resigned. In 1 787, he was again chosen 
in the place of Mr. Bowdoin, and remained in 
the chair till his death, October 8th, 1793, aged 
fifty-six years. His administration was very 
popular. It was apprehended by some, that on 
his accession the dignity of government would 
not be sufficiently maintained; but his language, 
on assuming the chair, was manly and decisive, 
and by his moderation and lenity, the civil con- 
vulsion was completely quieted, without the 
shedding of blood, by the hand of the civil ma- 
gistrate. Fourteen persons, who received sen- 
tence of death, were pardoned. In his public 
speeches to the legislature, he acquitted himself 
with a degree of popular eloquence, which is 
seldom equalled. In one of his last acts as go- 
vernor, he supported, in a dignified manner, the 
sovereignty of the individual states. By a pro- 



LIFE OF HANCOCK. 119 

cess commenced against Massachusetts in favour 
of William Vassal, esquire, he was summoned by 
a writ to answer to the prosecution in the court 
of the United Slates. But he declined the 
smallest concession, which might lessen the in- 
dependence of the state, whose interests were 
entrusted to his care, and he supported his 
opinion with firmness and dignity. Litigations 
of this nature were soon afterwards precluded 
by an amendment to the constitution of the 
United States. 

Mr. Hancock is represented as not favoured 
with extraordinary powers of mind, and as not 
honouring the sciences very much by his per- 
sonal attentions. But he was easy in his address, 
polished in manners, affable, and liberal; and 
as president of Congress he exhibited a dignity, 
impartiality, quickness of conception, and con- 
stant attention to business, which secured him 
respect. As the chairman of a deliberative 
body, few could preside with such reputation. 
In the early periods of his public career, it has 
been said, that he was somewhat inconstant in his 
attachment to the cause of his country. Though 
this representation should be true, yet, from the 
commencement of the war, the part which he 
took was decided and uniform, and his patriotic 
exertions are worthy of honourable remem- 
brance. By the suavity of his manners, and his 
insinuating address, he secured an almost un- 
equalled popularity. He could speak with ease 
and propriety on every subject. Being consider- 
ed as a republican in principle, and a fii-m sup- 



120 nFE OF RITTBNHOUSE. 

porter of the cause of freedom, whenever he 
consented to be a candidate for governor, he was 
chosen to that office by an undisputed majority. 
In piivate hfe he was charitable and generous. 
With a large fortune, he had also a disposition 
to employ it for useful and benevolent purposes. 
The poor shared liberally in his bounty. He 
was also a generous benefactor of Harvard Col- 
lege. He published an oration which he deliver- 
ed on the Boston Massacre, 1774. 



IIITTENHOUSE. 

David Rittenhouse, L.L.D. F.RS. the ce- 
lebrated American philosopher, was descended 
from ancestors, who emigrated from Holland 
about the beginning of the last century. He was 
born on the 8th day of April, 173:2, near Ger- 
mantown, in Pennsylvania, about eight miles 
from Philadelphia. His father, Matthias Ritten- 
house, was a native of the same place; and 
brought up in the occupation of a papermaker, 
in which he continued until the age of twenty- 
nine, when he moved to Norriton, now Montgo- 
mery county, and became a farmer. His mother, 
Elizabeth, was the daughter of Evan Williams, 
a native of Wales; a woman of good natural un- 
derstanding, but without the advantages of edi^- 
cation. His parents were distinguished for their 
probity, industry, and simple manners. 

It is fj-om sources, thus pure and retired, 
that those talents and virtues have been chiefly 



LIFJG OF KIITEMIOL'SE. Isil 

derived, wliich have in all a,i>es enlightened the 
world. They prove by their humble origin, that 
the Supreme Being has not surrendered up the 
direction of human alfairs to the advantages ac- 
quired by accident or injustice, and they bear a 
constant and faithful testimony of his impartial 
goodness, by their necessary and regular indu- 
ence in equalizing tlie condition of mankind. 

The first indications of that genius which dis- 
tinguished David Ritten house in the world, were 
manifested at the age of seven, in the construc- 
tion of a water mill in miniature. He was de- 
signed by his father for the pursuits of a farmer; 
and from his infancy was engaged in husbandry. 
At the age of fourteen, he was a labourer, and 
employed in ploughing his fatlier's fields. At 
this period he more fully developed the peculiar 
bent of his mind. The evidences of an uncom- 
mon intellect were exhibited in a variety of nu- 
merical figures and mathematical diagrams, 
chalked upon the fences, and even on the plough 
with which he worked. Continuing in the ordi- 
nary occupation of a husbandman, nothing fur- 
ther occurred to illustrate his future greatness, 
until he was seventeen years old. He then con- 
structed a wooden clock of ingenious mechanism; 
and shortly afterwards, from materials usually 
employed in such instruments, and upon com- 
mon principles, he made a twenty-four-hour 
clock. These machines afforded certainly very 
unequivocal proofs that their fabricator was no 
common man. 

His father, not being a man of more than com- 

L 



122 LIFE OF RITTESUOUSK. 

mon mind, and not much improved by an early 
education, for some time opposed his son's ear- 
nest desire to renounce agricultuial employ- 
ments, for the purpose of devoting himself alto- 
gether to philosophical studies, in connexion with 
some mechanical art, that might in the interim 
yield a subsistence. At length, however, his 
objections were overcome; and he supplied his 
son with money to purchase such implements as 
were necessary to the business of clock making. 

Young Rittenhouse erected on his father's 
land a commodious shop, and commenced to 
manufacture clocks and mathematical instru- 
ments. Such tools, necessary to his business, 
as he had not purchased, for want of money, 
he supplied by his own hands. Thenceforward, 
and until he was twenty-five, he devoted his days 
to his art, and his nights to philosophical studies. 
This incessant application shook his constitu- 
tion. He was seized with a peculiar malady, 
which he himself described " a constant heat in 
the pit of his stomach, affecting a space not ex- 
ceeding the size of a half guinea, and attended 
at times with much pain." From this sensation 
he was never exempted for the remainder of 
his life. To restore his health, he passed seve- 
ral weeks at the Yellow Springs, distant but a 
few miles from his father's residence; bathed 
and drank the waters; and, from the use of this 
chalybeate, in some measure recruited. 

Until he was nineteen years old, he had enjoy- 
ed no other opportunities of education than were 
furnished by common English schools, which 



LIFE OF RITTENTIOUSE. 



the neighbourhood of his father afforded, in 
which nothing beyond reading, writing, and the 
simplest rules of arithmetic were taught. 

A happy intercourse was then formed between 
himself and the late Rev. Thomas Barton, who 
afterwards married his sister, Esther Ritten- 
house. Mr. Barton, who had enjoyed a good 
education^ afforded his friend the benefits of in- 
struction of a higher order, and greatly facilitated 
his intellectual improvement. 

Some idea may be formed of Mr. Ritten- 
house's pursuits, from the following extract of a 
letter to his friend, Mr. Barton, written when he 
was about the age of twenty-four; 20th Septem- 
ber, 1756. "I have not health for a soldier; 
and, as I have no expectation of serving my 
country in that way, I am spending my time in 
the old manner; I am so taken with optics, that 
I do not know whether, if the enemy should 
invade this part of the country, as Archimedes 
was slain while making geometrical figures on 
the sand, so I should die making a telescope." 
It may be just mentioned that the country was 
then engaged in war, with the French and In- 
dians. 

During his residence with his father, he made 
himself master of Sir Isaac Newton's Principia, 
which he read in Mr. Motte's translation. At 
the same time he became acquainted with the 
science of fluxions, of which he, for a while, be- 
lieved himself author: nor did he learn for some 
years afterwards, that a controversy had existed 
between Sir Isaac Newton and the philosopher 



124 LIFE OF RITTEMIOUSE. 

Leibnitz, for the honour of that great and use- 
ful discovery. What a mind was here! Without 
the ordinary aids of education, he became the 
rival of two of the greatest mathematicians in 
Europe, before he reached his four-and-twentieth 
year. 

The great accuracy, and exquisite workman- 
ship, displayed in every thing belonging to his 
profession, that was fashioned by his hands, soon 
became extensively known; and the knowledge 
of his mechanical skill, assisted by his reputation 
as a mathematician and astronomer, procured 
him the friendship and patronage of some emi- 
nent characters. The union of almost unbound- 
ed genius, great acquirements in sublime science, 
and wonderful abilities in philosophical me- 
chanism, with an amiable and virtuous charac- 
ter, excited that celebrity so justly attached to 
his name. 

In the thirty-second year of his age he was 
employed to ascertain and fix the boundary be- 
tween Pennsylvania and Maryland, according to 
the decree of the lord chancellor of England, 
directing the specific execution of an agreement 
between the Penn family and lord Baltimore. 
This service was performed with great accuracy, 
and mucli to the satisfaction of his employers. 

Oti the 20th of February, 1766, he married 
Elenor Colston, daughter of Bernard Colston, a 
respectable farmer in his neighbourhood, of the 
society of Friends. On the 17th of November, 
of the same year, the college of Philadelphia 



LIFE OF RITTENHOUSB. 125 

conferred upon him the honorary degree of Mas- 
ter of Arts. 

In the year 1769, a controversy existing be- 
tween New York and New Jersey, as to boun- 
daries, Mr. Rittenhouse was employed to termi- 
nate the dispute, by ascertaining the hne which 
=ihould thereafter separate them. He executed 
the appointment with the greatest skill and lidehty. 

In January, 1769, he was one of a committee 
appointed by the American Philosophical So- 
ciety, to observe at three different places, the 
transit of Venus over the sun's disk, which was 
expected to happen on the 3d of June follow- 
ing, in 40 north latitude, and 5 hours west lon- 
£;itude from Greenwich. As the day approach- 
ed, when this rare astronomical phenomenon 
was to manifest itself, public expectation and 
anxiety were greatly excited. Its importance 
to astronomy had justly drawn the attention of 
every civilized nation of the world. Only two 
transits of Venus over the sun had been observed, 
prior to the 3d of June, 1769, since the creation 
of the world; and of these the first was seen but 
by two persons: yet the transits of Venus alone 
ifforded the opportunity of settling the p:.rallax 
of the sun, with sufficient certainty; and these 
iiappen so seldom, that there cannot be more 
than two in one century, and in some centuries 
none at all. Mr. Rittenhouse completed his ar- 
rangements about the middle of April. The 
observatory was fixed near his mansion at Nor- 
riton, on an elevated piece of ground, having a 
L 2 



126 lilFE OF HITTEWHOUSE. 

grand horizontal view, and furnished with suita- 
ble instruments to assist in making observation. 

The night before the long expected day, was 
passed by Mr. Rittenhouse, in a solicitude that 
precluded sleep. Great was his joy, when he 
beheld the morning sun, and the whole horizon 
without a cloud. In pensive silence and trem- 
bling anxiety, he waited for the predicted mo- 
ment of observation. It came; and brought with 
it all that had been expected. In Mr. Ritten- 
house, it excited, in the instant of one of the 
contacts of the planet with the sun, an emotion 
of delight so exquisite and powerful that caused 
him to faint. This will readily be believed by 
those who have known the extent of that plea- 
sure which attends the discovery or first percep- 
tions of truth. 

Mr. Rittenhouse was associated with several 
gentlemen, appointed to observe the transit of 
Mercury over the sun on the 9th of November, 
in the same year. This was likewise done at 
Norriton. An account of this more common 
phenomenon, was drawn up, and published, by 
Dr. Smith. The report contains the following 
remarks: "The first time that ever Mei-cury 
was observed on the sun^s disk, was by Gassen- 
dus, at Paris, on the 28th of October, 1631, O. 
S. The transit of the 9th of November, 1769, 
was the fourth in that class; the two interme- 
diate, each at forty-six years difference, having 
been observed by Dr. Halley, in 1 677, and 1 723." 

The result of his observations at Norriton, as 
well as those made under the auspices of the 



LIFE OF KITTENHOUSE. 127 

American Philosophical Society, at Philadelphia 
and Cape Henlopen, with those of the 9lh of 
November, are detailed in the first volume of its 
transactions. In all these events, Mr. Ritten- 
house acted a distinguished part; the report of 
the proceedings bear ample testimony to his 
transcendent astronomical abilities; it was re- 
ceived with great satisfaction by the astronomers 
of Europe, and contributed much to raise the 
character of our tiien infant country for astrono- 
mical knowledge. 

Some time in 1767, Mr. Rittenhouse project- 
ed a planetarium, or orrery, which he completed 
in the course of a few years. This machine 
raised his reputation as a mechanic, mathema- 
tician, and astronomer, to the highest grade. In 
the execution of it he was no copyist. He 
fashioned it entirely after his own astronomical 
theory. Mr. Jefferson, in his Notes on Vir- 
ginia, remarks, that this model of the planetary 
system has a " plagiary appellation." This is 
strictly true. The machine itself is as original 
as it is grand; by it he represented the revolu- 
tions of the heavenly bodies, in a manner more 
extensive and complete, than had ever been done 
by any former astronomers. 

Such were the amplitude of his mind, and the 
extent of his ideas, that in his retired situation, 
and while employed in working at his trade, he 
resolved and matured the mighty plan, upon 
which this machine is constructed, before it was 
executed. A correct description of this orrery, 
drawn up by Dr. Smith, is published in the first 



128 LIFE OF RITTENHOITSE. 

volume of the Transactions of the Philosophical 
Society. This beautiful and interesting piece 
of mechanism was disposed of to the college of 
New Jersey. 

In the year 1770, he executed another, after 
the same model, for the college of Philadelphia. 
This was completed in less than ten months 
from its commencement. It now forms part of 
the philosophical apparatus of the University of 
Pennsylvania, where it has for many years com- 
manded the admiration of the ingenious and 
learned, from every part of the world. 

This invention attracted very general atten- 
tion among the learned and ingenious. The 
legislature of Pennsylvania bore honourable 
testimony to the merits of Mr. Rittenhouse. 
Under date of the 8th of March, 1771, on the 
journal of the house, the following proceedings 
are found: 

" The members of assembly, having viewed 
the orrery constructed by Mr. David Ritten- 
house, a native of this province, and being of 
opinion, that it greatly exceeds all others hi- 
therto constructexl, in demonstrating the true 
situation of the celestial bodies, motions, dis- 
tances, periods, eclipses, and order, upon the 
principles of the Newtonian system: 

" Resolved, That the sum of three hundred 
pounds be given to Mr. Rittenhouse, as a testi- 
mony of the high sense which this house enter- 
tains of his mechanical abilities in constructing 
the said orrery.'' 

A certificate for the said sum, being drawn 



LIFE OF RITTENHOUSE. 129 

at the table, was signed by the speaker; and a 
committee was appointed to agree with, and 
purchase from, Mr. Ilittenhouse, a new orrery, 
for the use of the pubhc, at any sum not exceed- 
ing four hundred pounds, lawful money of the 
province. 

In 1770, he removed with his family from 
Norriton, and fixed his residence in the city of 
Philadelphia. Shortly afterwards, he had the 
misfortune to lose his wife. This afflicting 
providence, for some time, overpowered the 
philosopher with gloominess. Mrs. Rittenhouse 
left him in the charge of two young children. 
He vented his melancholy feelings, on this occa- 
sion, in the following pathetic words: — "but 
now, neither money nor reputation has any 
charms.^' 

The comet which appeared in July, 1770, 
engaged his attention for several days. His 
observations on it, with the elements of its mo- 
tion, and the trajectory of its path, were commu- 
nicated to the American Philosophical Society; 
and were published in the first volume of its 
transactions. It is worthy of remark, that a 
comparison of his observations with those of M. 
Messeir, in France, and Mv. Six, in England, 
on the same comet, confirmed his theory. 

In January, 1771, Mr. Rittenhouse was elect- 
ed one of the secretaries of the American Philo- 
sophical Society. The distinguished services 
rendered by this society, to the cause of science, 
had now attracted the respectful notice of the 
legislature; and about this time a laudable inter- 



ISO ilFE OF RITTENHOUSE. 

change of civilities between them was com- 
menced. In those days, the characters and at- 
tainments of the members of the society, and of 
the assembly, commanded mutual respect. 

From the year 1771, the affairs of the then 
colonies, were of a nature to exclude science 
from the attention of even the philosophic and 
learned. All men became engaged in politics. 
Legislation, and the military art, took posses- 
sion of the taste of the whole population. The 
interests of literature were neglected. 

Until the year 1775, Mr. Rittenhouse was very 
much in retirement; though he was not disen- 
gaged from anxiety for the public weal. He 
was too enlightened and patriotic not to be keen- 
ly sensible of the delicate as well as the alarm- 
ing situation of his country: but nature had fit- 
ted him more for the pursuits of science than 
the bustle of an official station. 

Before the commencement of the American 
revolutionary war, he was engaged jointly with 
a commissioner of New York, to ascertain and 
define the boundary between Pennsylvania and 
New York. This was not completed till after 
the termination of the war. 

In the year 1 775, he was elected to the Con- 
tinental Congress, as a representative of Phila- 
delphia; and took his seat in that body on the 
fifth of March. He was justly considered a 
prudent and able member, though little accus- 
tomed to occupy the floor as a speaker. He did 
not possess that description of talents, which 
often enable one of moderate abilities to make 



LIFE OF RITTKMIOUSE. l.U 

a prominent figure in popular assemblies: but 
his perception was quick; in deliberative powers 
he excelled; and his calculating faculties were 
most accurate. Insuperable native dilFidence, 
pursuits precluding opportunities of public speali- 
ing, and the peculiar structure of his mind, dis- 
qualified him as an orator. 

In the memorable year, 1776, Mr. Ritten- 
house was appointed a member of the board 
constituting the council of safety for the state of 
Pennsylvania. In the same year he was also a 
member of that convention in Philadelphia, which 
formed the first constitution for the state. On 
the meeting of the first legislature under the 
constitution in October, he was unanimously 
appointed the state treasurer, which office he 
continued to fill for twelve years, when he re- 
signed. 

In consequence of a territorial dispute between 
Pennsylvania and Virginia, he was appointed by 
the legislature of the former, in 1779, one of 
three commissioners to settle the controversy. 
After meeting with the commissioners on the 
part of Virginia, a convention was framed in 
which the line, to divide the two states, was de- 
signated; and this convention was subsequently 
ratified by the proper authority. Notwithstand- 
ing this adjustment, the controversy again arose, 
which was suspended during the war on the 
recommendation of Congress, whose principal 
object in the mediation, was to preserve peace 
and harmony among all the states while the war 
for their common independence raged. In 1 784^ 



132 LIVE OF RlTTEIfHOrSi;. 

the boundary was again ascertained by commis- 
sioners from botli the states. Of those fiom 
Pennsylvania, Mr. Rittenhouse was one; and to 
his talents, moderation, and firmness, was as- 
cribed, in a great degree, the satisfactory termi- 
nation of that once alarming controversy. 

In 1780, Mr. Rittenhouse was elected by the 
general assembly of Pennsylvania a trustee to 
the loan office. This institution was originally 
founded for the purjDoses of augmenting the cir- 
culating medium; and administered by the trus- 
tees according to authority from the legislature, 
for forty years, performed all the services of/ 
banking institutions. It was always simple in 
its operations, and issued bills on land security, 
with a given interest, to such persons as needed 
pecuniary assistance. After the adoption of the 
constitution of the United States, this institution 
went down, and banks were substituted. 

In 1 782, Mr. Rittenhouse was elected a fel- 
low of the Academy of Arts and Sciences, of 
Boston. In 1784, the college of William and 
Mary, in Virginia, comphmented him with the 
honorary degree of Master of Arts. In the di- 
ploma, which is special in its terms, he is styled 
by the rectors and faculty of the institution, " the 
chief of philosophers."' In the year 1789, he 
i*eceived the degree of Doctor of Laws from the 
college of New Jersey. In January, 1790, he 
was elected one of the vice presidents of the 
American Philosophical Society; and, in 1791, 
he succeeded the venerable Franklin to the pre- 
sidency of that institution. In 1 795, Dr. Ritten- 



LIFE OF RITTEXHOUSE. 133 

house was elected a fellow of the Royal Society 
of London. This society has dealt the honour 
of fellowship with a sparing hand, especially to 
foreigners Of Americans, Dr. Franklin, Dr. 
Johnson, Dr. Morgan, and the late Mr. Bartram, 
were fellows before the revolutionary war; but 
since that event not more than two or three, of 
whom Dr. Rittenhouse was one, have been ad- 
mitted to the honour of fellowship. 

It has been seen that Dr. Rittenhouse was fre- 
quently employed in ascertaining the boundaries 
and adjusting territorial differences between se- 
veral of the colonies, now states. These engage- 
ments were all completed, or put in the way of 
being completed, in such a manner as to excite 
at once great respect for his talents and integrity. 

The last occasion of this kind, on which he 
was employed, was on the appointment of Con- 
gress, in December, 1785, to ron a line of juris- 
diction between the states of Massachusetts and 
New York. This duty he performed in 1 787, and 
was executed with his usual precision and inte- 
grity. It was his farewell peace offering to the 
union and happiness of his country. Some time 
previously he was engaged with certain Virginia 
commissioners in running the western boundary 
of Pennsylvania. This service is merely intro- 
duced for the sake of exhibiting a small speci- 
men of the philosopher's conjugal correspond- 
ence. The following extract is of a letter to his 
wife, for he was again married, written in the 
wilderness: "I ever delighted in a wild unculti- 
vated country. This is truly romantic at this 

M 



134 IIFE OF RITTENHOUSE. 

season of the year, June 30th, 1785, beautiful 
and hixuriant in the highest degree. A few 
days ago, I walked up a Httle rivulet, in company 
with Mr. E. a considerable distance, to enjoy the 
romantic scene. It was bounded on each side 
by steep hills of an immense height; its bottom 
was finely paved with large flag stones, rising in 
steps, with every here and there a beautiful cas- 
cade. The further we proceeded, the more 
shady and cool we found it. At last I proposed 
to Mr. E. that we should proceed no further, 
lest we should find some of the water goddesses, 
perhaps, stark naked and asleep. Mr. A. went 
with us for company sake; but neither the 
nymphs, nor their shady bowers, have any charms 
for him. Nothing but your presence was want- 
ing to me to heighten the enchanting scene. 

" Deer are incredibly plenty in those regions. 
I was the first among us, who caught a young 
fawn, and hoped to have sent the beautiful little 
animal, a present, to H. We kept it about a 
week, and it became quite tame; but our cows 
ran away, and it starved for want of milk. 

" I would write to B. and H., but you will not 
readily imagine how little leisure I have. Tired 
of the exercises of the day, I rejoice at the ap- 
proach of night; and, after a cup of tea, gene- 
rally lie down to rest as soon as it is dark, unless 
we have observations to make; and then we have 
generally half a mile to walk through dark woods, 
from the place of observation to the encampment. 
This, however, does not happen above ouce in a 
fortnight. 



J.IFE OF RITTENHOUSE. 135 

" Sun hasten down the western skies, 
"Go quick to bed, and quickly rise," 

Until you bring round the happy day, that will 
restore me again to the dear woman and chil- 
dren I so much love." 

The talents and knowledge of Dr. Rittenhouse 
were not limited to mathematical or material 
objects, his mind was a repository of the know- 
ledge of all ages and countries: he had early and 
deeply studied most of the different systems of 
theology. He was well acquainted with prac- 
tical metaphysics. In reading travels he took 
great delight. From them he drew a large fund 
of his knowledge of the natural history of the 
globe. He possessed talents for music and 
poetry; but the more serious and necessary pui"^ 
suits of his life prevented his devoting much 
time to the cultivation of them. He read the 
English poets with great pleasure. The muse 
of Thomson charmed him most. He admired 
his elegant combinations of philosophy and poe- 
try. However opposed these studies may ap- 
pear, they alike derive their perfection from 
extensive and accurate observations of the works 
of nature. He was intimately acquainted with 
the French, German and Dutch languages, the 
two former of which he acquired without the 
assistance of a teacher. They served the valu- 
able purpose of conveying to him the discoveries 
of foreign nations, and, thereby, enabled him to 
prosecute his studies with more advantage in his 
native language. 

The study of astronomy was the favourite 



136 IIFE OF felTtEKttOUSlS. 

pursuit of Dr. Rittenhouse. Though not aided 
by the munificence of princes, in the purchase of 
such instruments as were used by the celebrated 
Mayer and Herschel, and, by the use of which 
alone they were enabled in one sense to anticipate 
him, yet so extensively did he make himself ac- 
quainted with the heavenly bodies and the laws 
which govern their motions, that he predicted 
almost every thing which has been discovered 
by them or any other astronomers. The dis- 
coveries of Dr. Herschel, among the fixed stars, 
in addition to those made by Mr. Mayer, in a 
great degree only realized the expectations 
which were expressed many years before by 
Dr. Rittenhouse. Indeed his annunciations 
were almost prescient, respecting that portion 
of the heavens, which should, at some time, be 
the scene of the most important astronomical 
discoveries. 

According to Dr. Herschel, the milky way is 
an immense nebula, near one of the sides of 
which is placed the solar system; and he ima- 
gined, that each nebula, of which he had ob- 
served more than nine hundred, consists of a 
group of suns, with their attendant planets! Dr. 
Rittenhouse never had the advantage of using 
such stupendous and costly telescopes, as those 
used by his great rival Herschel to explore the 
heavens; but his vast intellectual perception 
seems to have penetrated through space, and 
contemplated those sublime phenomena, vyhich 
-^.ctually exist beyond the power of our vision. 



LIFE OP RlTTENHOrSE. 1 37 

Herschel, with all his advantages, was enabled 
only to testify the anticipations of Rittenhouse. 

The American philosopher in language almost 
prophetic, and dictated by the most exalted per- 
ceptions of the grandeur of celestial objects, yet 
undiscovered, in his celebrated oration before 
the Philosophical Society, observed, that, " all 
yonder stars innumerable, with their dependen- 
cies, may, perhaps, compose but the leaf of a 
flower in the Creator's garden, or a single pillar 
in the immense buildings of the divine archi- 
tect." Those expectations which occupied the 
mind of Rittenhouse, as early as the year 1775, 
of the amazing discoveries to be made among 
the fixed stars, were not mere conjectures or 
vague hypotheses; but were rational anticipa- 
tions of realities founded on the most accurate 
observations, and most laborious researches, as 
well as the profoundest philosophical judgment. 
As Newton revealed those truths in physics, 
which his predecessor Bacon, preconceived; so 
that great practical astronomer, Herschel, by 
means of the most improved instruments, verified 
the grand hypotheses in astronomy, which had 
long before been conceived by the towering ge- 
nius of Rittenhouse. 

In the latter years of his life, Dr. Rittenhouse 
Idled various public stations of a civil nature, in 
ivhich he ably discharged the duties required of 
liim. He was the first director of the United 
States Mint, established under the administra- 
ion of president Washington; a trustee of the 
University of Pennsylvania; and a member of 
M 2 



138 LIFE OF RITTliXHOUSE. 

different incorporated associations to promote in- 
terna] improvements: In all of which, he was 
a good officer and an extensively useful citizen. 

In reply to the preposterous assertion of the 
Abbe Raynal, " that America had not produced 
one able mathematician, one man of genius in a 
single art or a single science," Mr. Jefferson, late 
president of the tFnited States, retorted the fol- 
lowing emphatical contradiction, which presents 
Dr. Rittenhouse's pretensions in an unequivocal 
and satisfactory view: "- In war we produced a 
Washington, whose memory will be adored, 
while liberty shall have votaries; whose name 
will triumph over time; and will in future ages 
assume its first station among the most cele- 
brated worthies of the world; when that wretch- 
ed philosophy, which would have arranged him 
among the degeneracies of nature, shall be for- 
gotten. In physics, we have produced a Franklin, 
than whom no one of the present age has made 
more important discoveries, nor has enriched 
philosophy more, and given more ingenious so- 
lutions of the phenomena of nature. We have 
supposed Rittenhouse second to no astronomer 
living; that in genius he must be the first, be- 
cause he is self taught. As an artist, he has 
exhibited as great proofs of mechanical genius 
as the world has ever produced. He has not 
indeed made a world; but by imitation, he has 
approached nearer its Maker than any other man 
who has lived from the creation to this day." 

The citizens of the United States were not 
insensible of the merits of Dr. Rittenhouse. In- 



LIFE OF RITTENHOUSE. 1 .>9 

ventions and improvements in every art and sci- 
ence were frequently submitted to his examina- 
tion, and afterwards were patronized by the pub- 
lic, according as they were approved of by him. 
Wherever he went, he met with pubhc respect 
and private attentions. But his reputation was 
not confined to his native country-. His name 
was known and admired in every region of the 
earth, where science and genius are cultivated 
and respected. In the limited circles of private 
life he commanded esteem and affection. As a 
neighbour he was kind and charitable. His 
sympathy extended in a certain degree to dis- 
tress of every kind, but it was excited with the 
most force, and the kindest effects to the weak- 
ness, pain and poverty of old age. As a friend 
he was sincere, ardent and disinterested. As a 
companion, he instructed upon all subjects. 
Those who enjoyed his company, might always 
learn something from his conversation, which 
was indicative of his mild disposition and the 
greatness of his understanding. 

The source of his virtues, whether of a public 
or private nature, was his exalted conceptions of 
the Deity, together with his decided belief of the 
immortality of the soul. His religion was not 
derived wholly from his knowledge and admira- 
tion of the material world — he believed in the 
Christian revelation. Of this he gave many 
proofs, not only in the conformity of his life to 
the precepts of the gospel, but in his letters and 
conversation. In his speaking of the truth and 
excellency of the Christian religion, he mention- 



140 IIFE OF RITTEiVIIOUSE. 

ed, as an evidence of its divine origin, that the 
miracles of our Saviour differed from all other 
miracles, in being entirely of a kind and benevo- 
lent nature. Dr. Rush says, " It is no small 
triumph to the friends of revelation to observe, 
in this age of infidelity, that our religion has been 
admitted, and even defended, by men of the 
most exalted understanding, and of the strongest 
reasoning powers. The single testimony of Dr. 
Rittenhouse in its favour, outweighs the decla- 
mations of whole nations against it." 

As the natural effect of his belief in the rela- 
tion of the whole human race to each other, in 
a common Father and Redeemer, he embraced 
the whole family of mankind in the arms of his 
benevolence. But the philanthropy of Dr. Rit- 
tenhouse did not consist simply in wishes for 
the happiness of mankind. He reduced this 
divine principle to practice, by a series of faith- 
ful and disinterested services to that part of his 
fellow creatures, to which the usefulness of 
good men is chiefly exerted. His country — his 
beloved country, was the object of the strongest 
affections of his heart. For her he thought — 
for her he laboured — and for her, in the hours 
of her difficulties and dangers, he wept in every 
stage of the revolution. 

The year of the declaration of independence, 
which changed our royal governments into re- 
publics, produced no change in his pohtical 
tenets, for he had been educated in the princi- 
ples of republicanism by his father. 

Dr. Rittenhouse resigned the directorship of 



iiiFB or RrrxENHorsBi. 141 

the United States Mint, in June, 1792; after 
which he retired very much to the pursuits of 
science, and the tranquilHty of domestic life. 
The scanty remnant of his days tliat yet remain- 
ed, were spent in the dignity of a great philoso- 
pher, and a good man. From the society of his 
family and friends, he derived much comfort in his 
intervals of respite from sickness and pain. He 
was fully sensible of the approaching crisis of the 
disease, which took him in his youth, and finally 
hore him to the grave; and he was quite pre- 
pared to meet the awful summons, with the 
fortitude which a retrospect of a well spent life 
was calculated to inspire, and with the resigna- 
tion, which an entire confidence in the good- 
ness, wisdom, and mercy of God, tauglit him to 
be his duty. His demeanour on his death bed 
was consonant with the temper he bed shown in 
every situation in which he was placed by Pro- 
vidence. He was calm, and above the fears of 
death. It was observed by Mr. Mallet, in the 
Ufe of lord Bacon, that nothing can awaken the 
attention, nothing affect the heart of man, more 
strongly, than the deportment of eminent per- 
sonages in their dying moments; in that only 
scene of life, when all are sure, sooner or later, 
to resemble them. Here then is a report of the 
last scene in the life of David Rittenhouse, a 
man who rose to the first eminence in the world. 
About the middle of June, 1796, he called 
for the last time on his nephew, Dr. Benjamin 
Barton, one of the medical professors, in the 
University of Pennsylvania, whom he informed 



142 IIFE OF RITTENHOtJSE. 

that he had received a diploma of fellow from 
the Royal Society of London; and, with a tone 
of voice, and certain expression of countenance, 
which indicated the apprehension of his ap- 
proaching dissolution, remarked, " that a few 
years ago, such a mark of respect from that 
illustrious body, would have been received by 
him with pleasure and pride." Dr. Rittenhouse, 
for some months, had been seriously impressed 
with the idea, that his career of usefulness and 
virtue was nearly run. He had, at several 
times, intimated to professor Barton, who was 
his physician, his impressions to this effect. 

On the 22d of June, 1796, Dr. Barton was in- 
vited to visit his illustrious uncle. He found him 
in his garden, where he loved to walk; and soon 
learned that he laboured under a severe attack 
of cholera, accoin[)a:>ieu with considerable frver, 
and an increase of that violent pain, and sense of 
oppression, at the region of his stomach, to which 
he had been subject more than thirty years. On 
the next day he was again visited by the doctor. 
He was sensibly worse. Dr. Barton requested 
permission to call in the aid of another physician; 
and accordingly Dr. Kuhn associated with him 
in the visits wl)ich were continued, until the 
catastrophe precluded the necessity of further 
medical services. He was bled; and the opera- 
tion seemed to afford him a temporary relief 
from his pain. His strength gradually declined; 
and on the third day of his illness, it became 
obvious that he was soon to be separated from 
the world. He expired without a struggle, and 



LIFE OF RITTENHOUSE. 143 

in the greatest serenity, ten minutes before two 
o'clock, on Sunday morning, 26th of June, 1796, 
in the presence of his youngest daughter, and 
his nephew, Dr. Barton. Plis excellent wife, 
who had ever been assiduous in her attentions 
on her illustrious companion, in sickness and in 
health, had retired from the chamber about two 
hours previously, unable to support the awful 
scene of expiring genius and virtue. 

From the first invasion of his disease, he en- 
tertained little hopes of recovery. He made his 
will; and discovered no more solicitude about 
his situation, than was entirely decorous and 
proper, in every good and great man. Through- 
out his illness, he manifested the most happy 
temperament of mind; and it was only in the 
last hour of his life, that his powerful intellects 
were disturbed by a mild delirium. In the af- 
ternoon before his decease, the pain in his 
stomach being unusually severe, a poultice, 
composed of meal and laudanum, was apphed to 
the part. In less than two hours after the ap- 
plication, he was asked, if he felt easier.-^ He 
calmly answered, in the last words he ever dis- 
tinctly uttered: "Yes; you have made the way 
to God easier!" 

It has, sometimes, of late years, been said of 
persons, who had been distinguished in life, 
when they left the world in a state of indiffer- 
ence to every thing, and believing and hoping in 
nothing, that they died like philosophers. How 
very different was the latter end of Dr. Ritten- 
house! That he was the first of philosophers, no 



144 LIFE Of RITTENHCrSE. 

one will deny; but he died like a Christian — in- 
terested in the welfare of all around him — be- 
lieving in a life to come, and hoping for happi- 
ness from every attribute of the Deity. 

The remains of Rittenhouse were deposited 
beneath the pavement w ithin the observatory in 
his own garden. Over his body was laid a slab 
of marble, inscribed simply with his name, the 
time of his decease, and his age. A numerous 
concourse of his surviving friends voluntarily at- 
tended his funeral. The Rev. Dr. Green, de- 
livered a very appropriate address at the grave. 
" This," said he, pointing to the repository of 
the philosopher, " is the tomb of genius and of 
science. Tlieir child, their martyr, is here de- 
posited; and tears will speak the eulogy of his 
friends. I stand not here to pronounce it. The 
thought that engrosses my mind is — how much 
more clear and impressive must be the views, 
which the late spiritual inhabitant of that life- 
less corpse now possesses of God; of his infinite 
existence; of his adorable attributes; and of that 
eternal blaze of glory which emanates from him; 
than when it was blinded by a veil of flesh! ac- 
customed, as it was, to penetrate far into the 
universe — far as corporeal or mental vision here 
can reacli. Still, what new and extensive scenes 
of wonder have opened on its eye, enlightened 
and invigorated by death! The discoveries of 
Rittenhouse, since he died! — rapturous thought! 
have already been more and greater than while 
he lived. Yes; and could he address us from 
the spiritual world, his language would be, 



LIFE or RITTENHOUSE. l-io 

" All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond 
Is substance; the reverse is folly's creed." 

" Filled with these reflections, let us go from 
this tomb, and resolve to aim at the high destiny 
of our nature. Rightly aiming at this, we shall 
fill up life with usefulness and duty. We shall 
bear its burdens with patience; and we shall 
look forward to its close with pleasure. We 
shall consider death but as the birth of a new 
and nobler existence; as a dark, but a short 
passage to the regions of eternal day; and in the 
very agony of our change, we may exclaim in 
triumph: ' death, where is thy sting! grave, 
where is thy victory!' " 

Dr. Rittenhouse was tall in stature; and in his 
person slender and straight. Although his con- 
stitution was delicate, his frame did not appear 
to have been originally weak. His gait was quick, 
and all his motions lively; his face was oval; 
complexion fair; and his hair brown. His fea- 
tures were good. His forehead was liigh, capa- 
cious, and smooth; his eyes were inclined to 
grey, expressive of animation, reflection, and 
^ood nature, and well placed under full arched 
brows. His nose was largo, handsome, and in- 
clined to the aquiline. His mouth was well 
formed; and his chin broad and sti'ong. In 
short, his whole countenance was indicativ'e of 
intelligence, complacency, and goodness; dis- 
played a mixture of contemplation, benignity, 
and innocence; and easily distinguished the per- 
son of the philosopher, in the largest company. 
His manners corresponded with the amiable 

N 



146 LIFE OF RITTENHOUSE. 

simplicity of his life, character, and the nature 
of his pursuits. He deprecated ambition, pomp, 
and ostentation; contemned luxury; and hated 
tyranny in all shapes. He bore his testimony 
against the traffic in negroes; and was opposed 
to every species of cruelty and injustice. Though 
plain in all his domestic arrangements, he lived 
well; nor was he in any respect deficient in that 
decorum in his personal appearance, and in the 
appendages of his household, which correspond- 
ed with his character and station in society. 
Without parade or splendour, in his furniture 
and dress, he was neat, correct, and gentleman 
like. His mansion, and every thing about it, de- 
noted the residence of good sense, elegant sim- 
plicity, and genuine comfort. In all his relations 
and conduct, he was greatly exemplary; a good 
husband, father, and master. He was happily 
free from all those foibles, inconvenient eccen- 
tricities, and musing, absent seasons, which so 
frequently characterize philosophers. 

Such was Dr. Rittenhouse. His natural and 
acquired abilities were truly great, as his moral 
qualities were of the highest and most estimable 
order; for in no situation or stage of his life have 
we beheld his virtues obscured by a cloud of 
weakness or of vice. 

He published an oration, delivered before the 
Philosophical Society, 1775, the subject of which 
is the history of astronomy; and essays, chiefly 
on mathematical and astronomical subjects, in 
the first volume of the transactions of the So- 
ciety. 



LIFE OF WAYNE. MT 



WAYNE. 



General Anthony Wayne occupies a con- 
spicuous station among the heroes and patriots 
of the American revolution. That eventful 
epoch was calculated to call into exertion the 
talents and virtues of our citizens, and the page 
of history can offer to our vievi^, no country in 
the maturity of its age, with which the infancy 
of our own may not be proudly compared. 
Never has a war been conducted with such puri- 
ty of intention, such integrity of principle, as the 
one which separated the United States from the 
British empire; and while these principles re- 
main with us, while America continues true to 
herself, resting on the favour of that Providence 
which led her through the dangerous ordeal, she 
may confidently bid defiance to the arts, and to 
the arms of the old world. 

Anthony Wayne was born in the year 1 745, 
in Chester county, in the state, then colony, of 
Pennsylvania, llis father, who was a respecta- 
ble farmer, was many years a representative for 
the county of Chester, in the general assembly, 
before the revolution. His grandfather, who 
was distinguished for his attachment to the prin- 
ciples of liberty, bore a captain's commission un- 
der king William, at the battle of the Boyne. 
Anthony Wayne succeeded his father as a re- 
presentative for the county of Chester, in the 
year 1773; and from his first appearance in 
public life, distinguished himself as a firm and 



148 LIFE OF WAYNE. 

decided patriot. He opposed witH much ability 
the unjust demands of the mother country, and 
in connexion with some gentlemen of distin- 
guished talents, was of material service in pre- 
paring the way for the firm and decisive part 
which Pennsylvania took in the general contest. 

In 1775, he was appointed to the command of 
a regiment, which his character enabled him to 
raise in a iew weeks in his native county. In 
the same year he was detached under general 
Thompson into Canada. In the defeat which 
followed, in which general Thompson was made 
a prisoner, colonel Wayne, though wounded, 
displayed great gallantry and good conduct, in 
collecting and bringing off the scattered and 
broken bodies of troops. 

In the campaign of 1776, he served under 
general Gates at Ticonderoga, and was highly 
esteemed by that officer for both his bravery and 
skill as an engineer. At the close of that cam- 
paign he was created a brigadier general. 

At the battle of Brandywine he behaved with 
his usual bravery, and for a long time opposed 
the progress of the enemy at Chad's ford. In 
this action the inferiority of the Americans in 
numbers, discipline, and arms, gave them little 
chance of success; but the peculiar situation of 
the public mind was supposed to require a battle 
to be risked; Uie ground was bravely disputed, 
and the action was not considered as decisive. 
The spirits of the troops were preserved by a 
belief that the loss of the enemy had equalled 
heir own. As it was the intention of the Ame- 



LIFE OF WAYNE. i 149 

rican commander in chief to hazard another 
action on the first favourable opportunity that 
should offer, general Wayne was detached with 
his division, to harass the enemy by every means 
in his power. The British troops were encamp- 
ed at Fredyffrin, and general Wayne was sta- 
tioned about three miles in the rear of their left 
wing, near the Paoli tavern, ai\d from the pre- 
cautions he had taken, he considered himself se- 
cure; but about 11 o'clock, on the night of the 
17th September, major . general Gray, having 
driven in his pickets, suddenly attacked him 
with fixed bayonets. Wayne, unable to with- 
stand the superior number of his assailants, was 
obliged to retreat; but formed again at a small 
distance, having lost about one hundred and fifty 
killed and wounded. As blame was attached, 
by some of the officers of the army, to general 
Wayne, for allowing himself to be surprised in 
this manner, he demanded a court martial, which 
after examining the necessary evidence, declared 
that he had done every thing to be expected from 
an active, brave, and vigilant officer; and ac- 
quitted him with honour. 

Shortly after was fought the battle of Cer- 
mantown, in which he greatly signalized himself 
by his spirited manner of leading his men into 
action. 

In all the councils of war, general Wayne was 
distinguished for supporting the most energetic 
and decisive measures. In the one previous to 
the battle of Monmouth, he and general Cad- 
wallader were the only officers decidedly in fa- 
N 2 



150 V I'lFE OF WAYNE. 

vour of attacking the British army. The Ame- 
rican officers were said to have been influenced 
by the opinions of the Europeans. The baron 
de Steuben, and generals Lee and Dii Portail, 
whose mihtary skill was in high estimation, had 
warmly opposed an engagement, as too hazard- 
ous — but general Washington, whose opinion 
was in favour of an engagement, made such dis- 
positions as would be most likely to lead to it. 
In that action, so honourable to the American 
arms, general Wayne vvas conspicuous in the 
ardour of his attack. General Washington in 
liis letter to Congress, observes, "Were I to 
conclude my account of this day's transactions 
without expressing my obligations to the officers 
of the army in general, I should do injustice to 
their merit, and violence to my own feelings. 
They seemed to vie with each other in mani- 
festing their zeal and bravery. The catalogue 
of those who distinguished themselves is too long 
to admit of particularizing individuals. [ can- 
not, however, forbear mentioning brigadier ge- 
neral Wayne, whose good conduct and bravery 
throughout the whole action deserves particular 
commendation." 

In July, 1779, the American commander in 
chief having conceived a design of attacking the 
strong post of Stony Point, committed the charge 
of this enterprise to general Wayne. The gar- 
rison was composed of six hundred men, princi- 
pally Highlanders, commanded by lieutenant co- 
lonel Johnson. Stony Point is a considerable 
height, the base of which, on the one side, is 



LIFE OF WAYNE. 1 5 1 

washed by the Hudson river, and on the other 
is covered by a morass, over which there is but 
one crossing place. On the top of tiiis hill was 
the fort; formidable batteries of heavy artillery 
were planted on it, in front of which, breast- 
works were advanced, and half way down, was 
a double row of abattis. The batteries com- 
manded the beach and the crossing place of the 
morass. Several vessels of war were also in the 
river, whose guns commanded the foot of the 
hill. At noon, on the 15th of July, general 
Wayne marched from Sandy Beach, and arrived 
at eight o'clock in the evening within a mile and 
a half of the fort, where he made the necessaiy 
disposition for the assault. After reconnoitring 
the situation of the enemy, at half past eleven 
he led his troops with unloaded muskets and fix- 
ed bayonets, and without firing a single gun, 
completely carried the fort and mode the garri- 
son, amounting to five hundred and forty-three 
(the rest being killed), prisoners. In the attack, 
while at the head of Febiger's regiment, general 
Wayne received a wound in the head with a 
musket ball, which, in the heat of tiie conflict 
supposing mortal, and anxious to expire in the 
lap of glory, he called to his aids to carry him 
forward and let him die in the fort, 'i'hc resist- 
ance on the part of the garrison was very spirit- 
ed. Out of the forlorn hope of twenty men, 
commanded by lieutenant Gibbon, whose busi- 
ness it was to remove the abattis, seventeen were 
killed. For the brave, prudent and soldier-like 
conduct displayed in this achievement, Congress 



152 IIFE 4)F WAYNE. 

presented to general Wayne a gold medal emble- 
matic of the action. 

In the campaign of 1781, in which lord Corn- 
wallis, and a British army were obliged to sur- 
render prisoners of war, he bore a conspicuous 
part. His presence of mind never failed him in 
the most critical situations. Of this he gave an 
eminent example on the James river. Having 
been deceived by some false information, into a 
belief that the British army had passed the river, 
leaving but the rear guard behind, he hastened 
to attack the latter before it should also have ef- 
fected its passage; but on pushing through a 
morass and wood, instead of the rear guard he 
found the whole British army drawn up close to 
him. His situation did not admit of a moments 
deliberation. Conceiving the boldest to be the 
safest measure, he immediately led his small de- 
tachment, not exceeding eight hundred men, to 
the charge, and after a short, but very smart 
and close firing, in which he lost one hundred 
and eighteen of his men, he succeeded in bring- 
ing off the rest, under cover of the wood. Lord 
Cornwallis, suspecting the attack to be a feint, 
in order to draw him into an ambuscade, would 
not permit his troops to pursue. 

The enemy having made considerable head 
in Georgia, Wayne was despatched by general 
Washington to take the command of the forces 
in that state, and after some sanguinary engage- 
ments, succeeded in establishing security and 
order. For his services in that state, the legis- 
•ture presented him with a valuable farm. 



LIFE OF WAYNE. 153 

On the peace, which followed sliortly after, 
he returned to private life ; but in 1 789 we find him 
a member of the Pennsylvania convention, and 
one of those in favour of the present federal 
constitution of the United States. 

In the year 1792, he was appointed to suc- 
ceed general St. Clair, who had resigned the 
command of the army engaged against the In- 
dians on our western frontier. He had to op^ 
pose an enemy of unceasing activity, abounding 
in stratagems, and flushed with recent victory. 
His troops were composed of new levies, who 
with difficulty could be brought to submit to the 
strictness of discipline, necessary to be preserved 
in order to counteract the arts of their wily foe. 
The service was considered as extremely dan- 
gerous, and the recruiting proceeded very slowly. 
Two gallant armies had been cut to pieces by 
these savages, who had destroyed with fire and 
the hatchet, the advanced settlements of the 
whites. On his appointment, it was supposed 
by many, that the military ardour, for which he 
had ever been eminently distinguished, would be 
very hkely to lead him into action under un- 
favourable circumstances, when opposed by a 
foe, whose vigilance was unceasing, and whose 
rule it was, never to risk an action, without the 
greatest assurance of success. But the appoint- 
ment had been made by the man who of all 
others was the best judge of the requisite quali- 
ties of a commander. General Wayne had been 
selected for this important situation by president 
Washington, who entertained a distinguished 



154 JJFE OF WAYNE. 

regard for him; and the result showed his opi- 
nion as accurate in this, as in all other instances 
of his glorious life. 

Wayne formed an encampment at Pittsburgh, 
and such exemplary discipline was introduced 
among the new troops, that on their advance 
into the Indian country, they appeared like vete- 
rans. He wished to come to a general engage- 
ment with the enemy, but aware of the serious 
consequences that would follow a defeat, the 
movements of the army were conducted with 
consummate prudence. Parties were constantly 
in advance, and as well to guard against a sur- 
prise, which had been fatal to the officers who 
had preceded him, as to inure his troops to vigi- 
lance and toil, the station of every night was for- 
tified. Provisions were difficult to procure, and 
a rapid advance into the enemy's country, must 
have been followed by as rapid a retreat. He, 
properly, conceived that the security of the 
country and the favourable termination of the 
war, depended more on maintaining the ground, 
in a slow advance, than by making a rapid in- 
cursion into their villages, which he might be 
obliged instantly to abandon. At this time the 
Six Nations had shown a disposition to hostili- 
ties, which the care of the president was scarcely 
able to prevent. And on the south, it was with 
difficulty that the government of Georgia re- 
strained the turbulence of its savage neighbours. 
In this situation, a retreat of the American 
troops, would probably have been attended with 
the most fatal consequences to the country. 



LIFE OF WAYNli. 155 

The Indians had collected in great numbers, 
and it was necessary not only to rout them, but 
to occupy their country by a chain of posts, that 
should, for the future, check their predatory in- 
cursions. Pursuing this regular and systematic 
mode of advance, the autumn of 1793 found 
general Wayne with his army at a post in the 
wilderness, called Greensville, about six miles 
in advance of Fort Jefferson, where he deter- 
mined to encamp for the winter, in order to 
make the necessary arrangements for opening 
the campaign to effect early in the following 
spring. After fortifying his camp, he took pos- 
session of the ground on which the Americans 
had been defeated in 1791, which he fortified 
also, and called the work Fort Recovery. This 
situation of the army, menacing the Indian vil- 
lages, effectually prevented any attack on the 
white settlements. 

The impossibility of procuring the necessary 
supplies prevented the march of the troops till 
the summer. On the eighth of August, the army 
arrived at the junction of the rivers Au Glaize 
and Miami of the Lakes, where they erected 
works for the protection of the stores. About 
thirty miles from this place, the British had 
formed a post, in the vicinity of which the In- 
dians had assembled their whole force. On the 
15th, the army again advanced down the Miami, 
and on the 18th arrived at the Rapids. On the 
following day they erected some works for the 
protection of the baggage. The situation of the 
enemy was reconnoitred, and they were found 



156 LIFE OF WAYNE. 

posted in a thick wood, in the rear of the British 
fort. On the 20ih, the army advanced to the 
attack. The Miami covered the right flank, 
and on the left were mounted vohmteers com- 
manded by general Todd. After marching about 
five miles, major Price, who led the advance, 
received so heavy a fire from the Indians who 
were stationed behind trees, that he was com- 
pelled to fall back. The enemy had occupied 
a wood in front of the British fort, which from 
the quantity of fallen timber, could not be enter- 
ed by the horse. The legion was immediately 
ordered to advance with trailed arms and rouse 
them from their covert; the cavalry under cap- 
tain Campbell, were directed to pass between 
the Indians and the river, while the volunteers, 
led by general Scott, made a circuit to turn their 
flank. So rapid, however, was the charge of 
the legion, that before the rest of the army could 
get into action, the enemy were conipletely 
routed, and driven through the woods for more 
than two miles, and the troops halted within 
gunshot of the British fort. All the Indians' 
houses and cornfields were destroyed. In this 
decisive action, the whole loss of general Wayne's 
army, in killed and wounded, amounted only to 
one hundred and seven men. As hostilities con- 
tinued on the part of the Indians, their whole 
country was laid waste, and forts established, 
which efFectually prevented their return. 

The success of this engagement destroyed the 
enemy's power; and in the following year gene- 
ral Wayne concluded a definitive treaty of peace 
with them. 



LIFE, OF WASUINGTON. 157 

A life of peril and of glory was terminated in 
the month of December, 1796. He had shielded 
his country from the murderous hatchet of the 
savage. He had established her boundaries. 
He had forced her enemies to sue for protection. 
He beheld her triumphant, rich in arts, and po- 
tent in arms. What more could his patriotic 
spirit wish to see ? He died in a hut in the wil- 
derness, and lies buried on the shore of Lake 
Erie.* 



WASHINGTON. 

I\ the history of man, we contemplate, with 
particular satisfaction, those legislators, heroes, 
and philosophers, whose wisdom, valour, and 
virtue, have contributed to the happiness of the 
human species. We trace the luminous pro- 
gress of those excellent beings with secret com- 
placency ;'^ our enmlation is exciteti, while we 
behold them steadily pursue the path of recti- 
tude, in defiance of every obstruction; and we 
rejoice that we are of the same species. 

The authentic pages of biography unite the 
most grateful amusement witli instruction. Truth 
supports the dignity of the historic muse, who 
will not admit of either fulsome panegyric, or 

* His remains were removed, in 1809, to Chester coun- 
ty, anil interred in the family burying ground of his son 
Isaac Wayne, esq. A monument has been erected to his 
memory by the society of Cincinnati. 



158 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

invidious censure — she describes her hero witli 
genuine simphcity — mentions his frailties, his 
characteristic pecuharities, and his shining qua- 
Hties. In short, she gives a faithful and lively 
portrait of the man, investigates the latent motives 
of his actions, and celebrates those virtues which 
have raised him to an enviable pre-eminence 
above his cotemporaries. 

We sympathize in the sufferings, and partici- 
pate the triumphs of those illustrious men who 
stand 

" Majestic 'mid the monuments of time;" 

and the approbation of excellence in others, na- 
turally leads the mind to imitate the object of its 
adoration. 

Among these v;orthies, who have a claim to our 
gratitude and veneration, George Washington, 
a native of the United States, appears in a con- 
sj)icuous place, in the first rank. 

He was the descendant of an ancestry, not 
opulent, but ancient and respectable, from the 
north of England. About the year 1657, his 
great grandfather, John Washington, possessing 
an independent and enterprising spirit, emigrated 
to America, and settled on an estate, in West- 
moreland county, in the province of Virginia. 
His immediate issue, in the line we are tracing, 
was Lawrence Washington, whose son Augus- 
tine, was, by a second marriage, the father of the 
subject of this article. 

George Washington, being the third in de- 
scent, from the European stock, was an Ameri- 
can, by the ties of birth-ri^^ht and blood, no less 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOX. 139 

than by those of education and sentiment. He 
was born at the original seat of his paternal an- 
cestors, in tlie county of Westmoreland, on the 
twenty-second day of February, 1732. 

Primitively, to inspire him with a love of truth, 
and to cultivate, in his infant mind, a rooted ab- 
horrence of deception and falsehood, appear to 
have been the early and continued care of his 
excellent parents. Nor, in relation to him and 
his future destinies, could they have engaged in 
a more sacred and important duty; or devised 
by the aid of wisdom and experience, a plan of 
education of higher necessity or fairer promise. 

Ardent, enterprising, and of surpassing 
strength, his mind was peculiarly quahfied to 
lead or to command. For ordinary operations, it 
had neither fitness nor predilection; nor, from 
his tenth year, could it ever be easily seduced 
into childish sports. 

Without the sentiments, then, so wisely and 
piously inculcated by his parents, a love of truth, 
and an abhorrence of falsehood, which constitute 
the basis of sound morality, it might, by becom- 
ing the harbour of vice and dishonour, have 
proved to his coteniporaries, instead of a bless- 
ing, a source of serious and lasting misfortune. 
Enamoured of employment, and formed for high 
exploits, it could not, under circumstances fa- 
vourable for action, have failed to transmit to 
posterity, some enduring memorials of its powers. 
In achievements, advantageous or injurious, in 
no common degree, it was destined to signalize 
itself. *" 



A 



160 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

So faithfully was this scheme of instruction 
administered, that it proved, in its issue, com- 
pletely successful. By those who are entitled to 
credit, it is asserted, that, on no occasion, either 
to insure a favour or reward, or to escape an- 
ticipated reprimand or correction, was the sub- 
ject of it known to utter a falsehood. A sense 
of duty, operating on a manly and ingenious dis- 
position, induced him to acknowledge, without 
prevarication, whatever faults the wantonness of 
childhood might have seduced him to commit. 
So proverbial did his adherence to truth, and 
the perfect correctness of his representations 
become, that, when, at school, disputes arose 
among his companions, as to the existence or 
character of facts or occurrences, where he was 
alleged to have been present, he was uniformly 
called on, to settle the controversy; and appeals 
from his decision were exceedingly rare. 

These things, small in themselves, would be 
unworthy of record, as the mere attributes of the 
child; but they swell into importance, from their 
intimate connexion with the transcendent worth 
and greatness of the man. So true, and so im- 
portant, in their application, are the lines of the 
poet: 

" 'Tis education forms the solid mind, 

" Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd." 

Before he had completed his tenth year, young- 
Washington, having had the misfortune to be de- 
prived of his father, was left to the care of a 
widowed mother, under circumstances, which 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 161 

(lid not permit him to receive the advantages of 
a hberal education. 

The knowledge of mathematics excepted, in 
which, from the bent and aptitude of his genius 
to that science, he made considerable progress, 
his scholastic attainments appear to have been 
limited. In the homely language of the times, 
" to read, write, and cipher,'' constituted the 
complement of learning, allotted to him, who 
was destined to prove the glory of his age; and 
to rank at the head of the ornaments of history. 
But so vigorous were the seeds of greatness im- 
planted in his nature, that but little .cultivation 
was requisite for their growth. 

He is said to have manifested, at an early pe- 
riod, a strong predilection for the military pro- 
fession. Besides an unusual attachment to fire- 
arms, and a dexterity in using them, beyond his 
years, he was in the constant practice of drilhng 
his companions, forming them into sections, ar- 
ranging them in order of battle, and leading 
them to mimic combat. On these occasions, 
however inferior, in age and size, to many of his 
comrades, he was always, in rank, commander 
in chief. 

Nor was nature content to bestow on him only 
the soul of a chieftain. To render him perfect, 
in this respect, as far as perfection belongs to 
humanity, she was equally liberal to him, in 
personal qualities. With a figure, masculme 
and well fornied, and unusually graceful and 
commanding, for his years, he possessed extra- 
ordinary agility and strength. In running, he 
o2 



162 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

had no equal; in leaping and wrestling, very 
fevv. In horsemanship and hunting, he also ex- 
celled. 

By pursuing habitually, during his youth, sucli 
manly and athletic exercises, as these, he ac- 
quired that vigour and hardiii^d, activity and 
address, which so admirably fitt* him, in quali- 
ties of person, for the scenes in which he was 
destined to engage. For, to him whose province 
it becomes, to penetrate unexplored and danger- 
ous forests; to reconnoitre a foe, swift of foot, 
and forever on the alert; to endure the extremes 
and hardships of a camp, oftentimes unprovided 
with the necei*sary protection against the incle- 
mencies of the weather; and to lead armies, in 
person, to battle; efficiency of body, is no less 
requisite than resources of mind. 

tVhen in his fifteenth year, his passion for 
arms disclosed itself in an act of a more decided 
character. Fired by the splendour of some 
achievements at sea, and the Americans having, 
as yet, no renown on that element, he solicited 
and obtained the appointment of midshipman rn 
the British navy. 

But the scenes, which, in prospect, so at- 
tractively presented themselves to his youthful 
imagination, and invited him to glory, in this 
line of life, he voluntarily rehnquished, at the 
entreaties of his mother. At so critical an age, 
when feeling is most unruly, and reason imma- 
ture, did he exhibit a perfect mastery of himself, 
even in opposition to his ruling passion. 

From this period, we hear but little of our 



tlffi OP WASHINGTON. 163 

young countryman, until his nineteenth year, 
when we find hiui, high in reputation, as a sur- 
veyor of land, in a frontier district, and one of 
the adjutants general of the province of Vir- 
ginia, with the rank of major in the line. To 
have obtained, thus early, a trust and a com- 
mission, requiring, for their due execution, the 
judgment and experience of mature life, he must 
have employed his youth to excellent purpose. 
To the steadiness, fidelity, and perseverance of 
manhood, he must have united a commanding 
dignity of deportment, and a degree of prudence, 
aiKl intelligence, altogether beyond his years. 
History furnishes, perhaps, no instance, in which, 
without the intrigues of party, or the overruling 
influence of the affluent or the great, a confidence 
so extensive, as was here reposed in so young 
a man. 

But this is not the only particular, in which 
his merit was beyond example. He rarely ap- 
pears, in any capacity, without exhibiting a 
marked superiority of excellence. This is true, 
whether we regard him as a citizen, or a states- 
man, a first magistrate, or a military chief. Un- 
lettered as he was, even his writings are singu- 
lariy perspicuous, chaste, and forcible. But, on 
these topics, we shall have occasion, hereafter, 
to dwell more at large. 

A crisis was now at hand, in which he was to 
be called to the execution of a trust, much more 
arduous in its nature, and momentous in its 
issue, than any, in which he had been, hereto- 
fore, concerned. 



164 XIFE OP AVASHINGTON^. 

France and England, although at peace in 
Europe, might be said to be, virtually, at war, 
in America. Each nation claimed the right of 
sovereignty, over a large unsettled tract of coun- 
try, v^^est of the Allegheny mountains, but v^^iih- 
in the chartered lines of the British colonies. 
In this disputed territory, France meditated the 
erection of a number of forts, with a view to 
maintain her claim to it; and, connecting Canada 
to Louisiana, by a chain of military posts, to 
confine the British colonies to the east of the 
mountains. This encroachment, should it be 
actually attempted, it was the determination of 
the colonists to repel by arms. 

To prevent such an extremity, if possible; or, 
should he fail in the effort, the better to justify 
his conduct, in the event, governor Dinwiddle, 
of the province of Virginia, resolved to send a 
remonstrance to the French commandant, on 
the waters of the Ohio, solemnly protesting 
against the proceedings of France, as hostile to 
the rights of his Britannic majesty, and threaten- 
ing to the safety, and injurious to the interests, 
of his American subjects. Of this important 
state document, which might become the basis 
of either peace or war, major Washington, now 
in tlie twenty-second year of his age, was select- 
ed as the bearer. 

But his mission was not limited, in its object, 
to the mere carrying of a letter. He was de- 
puted to explore, with a view to military posi- 
tions and operations, the tract of country 
through which he was to pass; to conciliate the 



MFE OF WASHINGTON. 16.1 

affections of the Indian tribes inhabiting it; to 
compass, as far as possible, the designs of 
France; and to report, on his return, such intel- 
ligence, as might aid the government, in its 
adoption of measures, to meet the occasion. 

A mission so intrinsically difficult, and, at the 
same time, so important, had never, perhaps, 
been intrusted to the sole management of so 
youthful a negotiator. To a mind less aspiring, 
or a spirit of less ardour, intrepidity, and enter- 
prise, the obstacles that presented themselves 
would have appeared insurmountable. 

Winter was approaching; and the route to the 
French head quarters, lay through a tract of 
wilderness, several hundred miles in extent, 
embarrassed by mountains, intersected by rapid 
and dangerous rivers, covered by snows, of con- 
siderable depth, and inhabited by several tribes 
of savages, some of which were known to be 
unfriendly, at the same time, to the British colo- 
nists. 

But instead of discouragements, these things 
were incentives, to the soul of Washington. 
Leaving to others, of halcyon temperament, the 
pleasures of the calm, and the enjoyment of the 
sunshine, it was his to exult in the strife of the 
elements, and the corning of the storm. Pleased 
with the enterprise, to which he was called, on 
account of the good it might eventually produce, 
he was the more enamoured of it from the diffi- 
culties and dangers, by which it was surrounded. 

Having prepared for his journey, without a 
moment's delay, he set out from a frontier sot- 



166 LI1?E OP M ASHIJfGTOX. 

tlement, on Will's creek, on the 1 5lh of Novem- 
ber, accompanied by two servants, and an in- 
terpreter, accomplished his mission, in a manner 
so perfect, as to secure the undivided applause 
of his country, and returned to Williamsburgh, 
on the 78th day from the time of his appoint- 
ment. 

During this excursion, besides other observa- 
tions of practical importance, he lirst designated 
as a situation suitable for a fortress, the point of 
land, formed by the confluence of the Mononga- 
hela and the Allegheny rivers. On that spot Fort 
Dii Q,uesne, subsequently Fort Fitt, now Pitts- 
burgh, was, soon afterwards, erected by order of 
the French. 

The journal kept by major Washington, on 
this occasion, was deemed, by the governor and 
colonial assembly, of his native province, worthy 
of the press; when printed, was eagerly sought 
after and read, by his countrymen; and pro- 
cun^d, for its author, as well on account of the 
resources of his ujind, as of his personal prowess, 
cnei'gies, and firumess, a large additional stock 
of public admiration, and well placed confi- 
dence. 

Induced, by the stormy aspect of affairs, to 
raise, in the following year, a body of men, for 
the protection of her frontier settlements, Vir- 
ginia conferred on major Washington, the rank 
of heulenant colonel; and, his superior officer 
soon after dying, gave to him the entiic command 
of the regiment. 

Accustomed to lead in every enterprise of 



J.irJi OF WASHINGTON. 16." 

gallantry and danger, he had the fortune to con- 
duct, in person, the first open conHict of arms, 
which took place in the war that was now 
commencing, between the French and the Bri- 
tish colonists. Convinced of the hostile inten- 
tions of a detachment of the former, which had 
encamped near the Great Meadows, on the 
western frontier of Virginia, he advanced on 
them, under cover of a dark and rainy night, 
poured in a tire, which killed the commanding 
officer. Monsieur Jumonville, and immediately 
surrounding the remainder, captured the whole 
party, with the exception of one individual, who 
effected his escape. 

Not long after this, an affair occurred, much 
better calculated than any preceding one, to tiy 
completely the military talents of our young com- 
mander. 

With nothing but a half finished stockade 
fort, and his own genius to defend him, we find 
him, at the head of three hundred Virginians, 
engaged in desperate, but unequal combat, with 
a detachment of twelve hundred French and In- 
dians, under the command of Monsieur de Vil- 
lier. 

The action lasted from ten o'clock, in the 
morning, until sunset; during the whole of which, 
foremost in battle, and refusing refreshment, 
Washington fought without the stockade, openly 
exposed to the fire of the enemy. But, from 
the beginning, until the close, of his career of 
glory, the shield of Heaven appeared to be be- 
fore him ; for^ in the midst of peril, which so of- 



168 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

ten seemed to menace him with inevitable de- 
struction, no hostile hand was ever permitted to 
shed a drop of his blood. 

A parley being called for, by the French com- 
mander, a negotiation ensued, which terminated, 
on the part of Washington, in a surrender of the 
fort, on condition, that the defenders of it should 
be permitted to "-march out with the honours of 
war, to retain their arms and baggage, and re- 
turn, unmolested, to the inhabited parts of Vir- 
ginia/^ 

For their firmness and good conduct in bat- 
tle, and a capitulation so honourable, with an 
enemy so far superior in numbers, colonel 
Washington and his officers received from the 
legislature of Virginia, a vote of thanks. In ad- 
dition to their pay, three hundred pistoles were, 
at the same time, distributed among the soldiers 
who had been engaged in the action. No ar- 
rangements being made, by the government of 
the colony, for a renewal of offensive operations, 
during the present year, colonel Washington 
resigned his commission. 

An open rupture between France and England 
was, in a short time, the result of so serious a 
collision between their colonies. 

Preparations were made by both parties, to 
act with vigour, and on an extensive scale. 

General Braddock arriving in America, early 
in the year 1755, at the head of two British re- 
giments, with orders to proceed immediately to 
protect ihe frontiers, and chastise the enemy, 
colonel Washington accepted an invitation to 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 169 

accompany hiirij in the character of a volunteer 
aid. 

The object of the campaign was the reduction 
of Du Quesne, a French garrison, situated, as 
already stated, near the confluence of the Mo- 
nongahela and the Allegheny rivers. 

Ignorant, a,s general Braddock was, of the 
nature of the country, through which he was to 
pass, as well as the character of the enemy he 
had to encounter; and rejecting, from a senti- 
ment of military pride, strengthened, perhaps, in 
the present instance, by a conceit of British 
superiority, the salutary advice of his American 
aid, who was known to be perfectly acquainted 
with both, delay in movement, and a terrible 
disaster in battle, were the fatal consequences. 

While a select detachment of twelve hundred 
men, under the immediate command of general 
Braddock, was on its march from the Little Mea- 
dows, towards Fort Du Q,uesne, colonel Wash- 
ington, who had been previously indisposed, was 
suddenly seized with a raging fever, which com- 
pelled him, after a dangerous effort to proceed, 
to halt for several days, under medical treat- 
ment. 

Having recovered sufficiently to travel, in his 
baggage wagon, he pressed forward, with all the 
eagerness of mihtary enthusiasm, and, rejoining 
the detachment, on the 8th of July, entered im- 
mediately, although much enfeebled, on the per- 
formance of his duties. 

On the day following, just as the army had 
crossed the Monongahela, and secure of danger, 



trO LIFE OF WASHIKGTOJV. 

was in easy march towards its place of destina- 
tion, now, but a few miles distant, in front, oc- 
curred that memorable scene of slaughter, known 
throughout Europe, as well as America, by the 
popular name of " Braddock^s defeat." 

An ambuscade had been formed, in a well 
chosen position, by a large party of French and 
Indians, into which, by again rejecting, in a tone 
of haughtiness, the modest counsels of his vo- 
lunteer aid, advising him of the probabihty of 
such an event, the British commader was unfor- 
tunately seduced. 

A conflict of the most sanguinary character 
ensued. It was in this field of blood, where the 
hearts of the bravest shrunk, in dismay, from the 
dismal war-hoop, and the wide-spreading car- 
nage, that the youthful American, by his un- 
shaken firmness, self-possession, and skill in 
battle, distinguished himself to the perfect asto- 
nishment of his country. 

So deadly was the aim of the French and In- 
dian riflemen, at the British officers, that, early 
in the action, Washington was the only surviving 
aid of the ifl fated Braddock. This disaster, in 
itself disheartening, trebled his duties, and in- 
creased his exertions, to a degree that was in- 
credible. Debilitated, as he was, by a fever, 
from which he had but imperfectly recovered, 
he was seen on horseback, at every point of the 
action, but especially where the fire of the ene- 
my was most destructive to the British line, di- 
recting the movements of the provincial rangers, 
rallying and encouraging the broken and de- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 171 

spending columns of regulars, and executing the 
orders of the commander in chief 

During three hours, he was thus exposed, far 
within striking distance, to the deliberate aim of 
some of the most deadly marksmen of the age. 
Two horses fell under him, and a third was 
wounded; four balls pierced his coat, and seve- 
ral others grazed his sword; but, destined, by 
Heaven, for Higher purposes, his person was un- 
touched. Every other officer on horseback, be- 
ing either killed, or severely wounded, he, alone, 
at the close of the action, was capable of ser- 
vice. 

What rendered his safety the more extraordi- 
nary, several of the Indians al'terwards acknow- 
ledged, that, when but a few paces distant from 
him, they aimed their shot repeatedly at his 
breast. His escape, under these circumstances, 
began to produce among them a firm belief, that, 
by virtue of some supernatural agency, his per- 
son, for the time, was rendered invulnerable. 

Partly on account of a preservation so signal, 
in the midst of perils, so numerous and menacing, 
and, in part, from the well tried heroism of his 
character, an able and pious divine, of the day, 
declared, in a strain of impassioned eloquence, 
that he could not but consider him as preserved 
by Heaven for some very distinguished service 
to his country. 

, When in the course of the battle, general 
Braddock, who, at the head of his troops, had 
gallantly presented himself, as a mark for the 
riflemen, fell, under a wound, that, in a few days. 



1 72 tlPE or WASHINGTOJf. 

proved mortal, the panic of his regulars became 
universal, and their flight from the combat, dis- 
orderly and pi'ecipitate. But^ not so with Wash- 
ington, and the surviving remnant of his brave 
Virginians. They lingered on the field, with 
unyielding obstinacy, protected the rear of their 
routed companions, and rescued from the 
butchery of the hatchet and the scalping knife, 
the person of the wounded commander in chief 

Under Providence, it was the good conduct of 
colonel Washington, in battle and retreat, that 
saved the army from utter extermination. It 
was the belief of every one — nor did thousands 
hesitate, loudly to express it — that had he been 
invested with the chief command, the disasters of 
the day would not have occurred. 

By the discomfiture and retreat of the army 
of Braddock, the frontiers of Virginia were again 
exposed to the incursions and massacres of a 
victorious foe. For protection and safety, the 
trust of his native province, was instinctively re- 
posed in the genius of Washington. So unlimit- 
ed was her confidence in his judgment and skill, 
that, in her scheme of defence, she not only ap- 
pointed him commander in chief of all the colo- 
nial troops to be raised on the occasion, but 
vested in him the privilege of nominating his 
field officers. 

From this time, until the close of hostilities in 
1758, a period of about three years, the life of 
our young countryman presented a scene of un- 
remitting action, solicitude and toil. 

To defend, with a very limited body of troops. 



i 



LIFE OF WASHlNGToy. 173 

a frontier of nearly four hundred miles in extent, 
easily passable at almost any point, against an 
enemy intrepid, artful^ and forever on the alert; 
that skulked by day, and ravaged by night, sub- 
stituting murder for honourable war — against 
such an enemy, to conduct a defence so dispro- 
portioned to his means, was a task too arduous 
for man to perform. It was during his devotion 
to it, and while his distracted fellow subjects 
were imploring from him succours he was una- 
ble to afford, that he expressed himself, by a let- 
ter, in the following terms: "The supplicating 
tears of the women, and the moving petitions of 
the men, melt me with such deadly sorrow, that, 
I solemnly declare, if I know my own mind, I 
could offer myself a willing sacrifice to the 
butchering enemy, provided that could contribute 
to the people^s ease/^ 

Difficult, and of great responsibility, as was 
the appointment he held, his popularity, while 
toiling in the discharge of the duties of it, con- 
tinuing to increase, he left it with more reputa- 
tion than he accepted it: a circumstance of rare 
occurrence, in any thing connected with the feel- 
ings of the multitude. In the midst of their dis- 
tresses, when their sufferings were such as might 
have wrung from them expressions of deep dis- 
satisfaction, with every thing earthly, the people 
of the frontiers were never heard to murmur a 
complaint against the conduct of Washington. 
With a degree of unanimity, but very seldom 
witnessed, all seemed convinced, that whatever 
p 2 



1 r4 LIFE OF WASniNGTOX. 

was within the compass of human achievement, 
he faithfully performed. 

Of all that he recommended to the govern- 
ment of Virginia, for the permanent security 
and tranquillity of the province, his favourite 
measure was the reduction of Fort Du Q,uesne. 
" Never," said he in a letter to a friend, " will 
the knife and the hatchet cease to be stained 
in the blood of the frontier inhabitants, until that 
fortress be within our power. Better to sacrifice, 
in the reduction of it, another army, than that 
the enterprise be abandoned." 

The event, in relation to this point, fully 
evinced the correctness of his views, and the 
soundness of his judgment. No sooner did Fort 
Du Q,uesne pass into the possession of the Bri- 
tish, in 1758, than the war of the frontiers was 
completely at an end. 

The marauding and murdering parties of sa- 
vages, heretofore so fatal and alarming in their 
incursions, having, now, on the borders of the 
colonies, neither a place of common rendezvous, 
in which to concert their plans of invasion, a 
strong hold to fly to on occasions of danger, nor 
artful counsellors to encourage and reward 
them in the practice of rapine, and the pursuit 
of blood, ceased to be troublesome to the repose 
of the inhabitants. 

With the close of the campaign of 1758, ac- 
tive hostihties being now at an end, terminated 
the career of colonel Washington as a provincial | 
officer. 



LIFE OF WASUIKGTOIS'. Ko 

On resigning his commissionj and retiring 
from the army, he received, in a most affection- 
ate address, the thanks of his regiment; and car- 
ried with him the esteem of the British officers, 
and the gratitude and love of his native province, 
which he had so highly honoured and so nobly 
served. 

Scarcely had he reposed from the toils of war, 
when, in reward for all he had performed and 
endured, he was favoured, in marriage, with 
the hand of Mrs. Custis, who, to an elegant per- 
son, and an ample fortune, united all the quali- 
ties of a fine woman, and the attainments and 
polish of an accomplished lady. 

A few years previously, he had received, on 
the death of an elder brother, a valuable estate, 
denominated Mount Vernon, pleasantly situated 
on the banks of the Potomac. On this he set- 
tled soon after his marriage, and, forgetting in 
the lap of domestic happiness, the fatigues and 
solicitudes of military life, exchanged, in a short 
time, the character of the ablest soldier of the 
country, for that of the most skilful cultivator of 
the soil. 

From the beauties of its scenery, the salubrity 
of its situation, and a sentiment of attachment 
to his brother, who bequeathed it to him, Mount 
Vernon had for Washington all the attractions a 
place of residence could possibly possess. In 
that delightful and favourite spot, surrounded by 
whatever renders life desirable, 

" A nation's praise, friends, health, connubial love, 
" A conscience peaceful, and approving Heaven," 



176 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

he devoted himself, for a period of fifteen years, 
exclusively to agricultural and domestic pursuits; 
except, that he served as a member of the house 
of burgesses of Virginia, and a judge of the 
court of the county in which he resided. In 
these capacities he acquitted himself with great 
intelligence, purity and honour, enlarged his ex- 
perience in the transaction of public business, 
and acquired much useful and practical know- 
ledge in the science of civil government. 

During this interval, the conflicting claims of 
Great Britain and America were oftentimes a 
subject of serious discussion in the legislature of 
Virginia. On these occasions, Washington 
steadily attached himself to the whig party, and 
opposed, with all the weight of his character, 
and every argument his genius could devise, the 
right of the mother country to tax her colonies. 
In consideration of this line of conduct, he was 
known by the name of the Virginia Patriot. 

In the year 1774, we find him a distinguished 
member from his native province, of the first 
American Congress, which assembled in Phila- 
delphia, to deliberate on the rights and interests 
of their common country, to remonstrate against 
grievances, which could no longer be tolerated, 
and, should the crisis demand it, to choose be- 
tween political freedom and bondage, the resist- 
ance of citizens and tlie submission of slaves. 

Denominated, from his skill and experience 
in military affairs the Soldier of America, he 
was chairman, as long as he remained in Con- 
gress, of every committee appointed by that 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 177 

body, for the purpose of public defence. And, 
when, ultimately^ the injustice, and meditated 
oppression of the British ministry, forced on the 
American people the war of the revolution, he 
was unanimously elected, to the infinite satisfac- 
tion and joy of his country, commander in chief, 
of all the armies of the United Colonies. So 
pre-eminent was his standing, as a military cha- 
racter, that his appointment was neither attended 
with competition, nor followed by envy. It was 
an act of intuitive homage, paid by an enlight- 
ened and virtuous people, to an individual who 
was above rivalship. 

Illustrious as he already was, and inestimable 
as his services to his country had been, we now 
behold him entering on a much more radiant 
and important career. 

Having accepted, with expressions of peculiar 
modesty, the exalted rank bestowed on him, 
by Congress, he soon manifested, in the dis- 
charge of the momentous duties appertaining to 
it, all the qualities of a great commander. What 
he had been in his youth, to the colony of Vir- 
ginia, its vigorous and invincible arm of defence, 
he now became, in the strength of manhood, to 
his country at large. 

To give a finished portraiture of all his 
achievements, during the war of the revolution, 
is the province of history: the biographer must 
be content with a bare enumeration of them. 

It was not the least patriotic of his actions, 
that, for his services, as commander in chief, 
which were indeed above price, he declined. 



178 LIFE OF WASaiNGTOJf. 

from their commencement, by express stipula- 
tion, all emolument. The disbursement of the 
expenses, necessarily attendant on the station 
he filled, was all his country could prevail on 
him to accept. 

Massachusetts was now the theatre ol* war, 
the town of Boston being occupied by the enemy. 

On the reception of his commission, general 
Washington lost no time in placing himself at 
the head of the American forces, in the vicinity 
of Cambridge. 

His journey from Philadelphia to that place, 
was a continued jubilee to the friends of liberty. 
He was welcomed into the towns and villages, 
through which he passed, by deputations, gratu- 
latory addresses, professions of attachment and 
proffers of support. The liveliest hopes were 
entertained and expressed, that, under his di- 
rection, Heaven would be propitious to the arms 
of freedom. 

On his arrival at the American headquarters, 
he found an assemblage of brave men, anxious 
to avenge the wrongs of their country, but no 
army, in a technical sense. Discipline among 
the troops, experience among the officers, skil- 
ful engineers, ammunition and bayonets, clothes 
and working tools, were wanting in a degree 
that was truly alarming. Nothing but the genius 
and resources of a great leader, could supply, 
on the very lines of an enemy, provided with 
every thing, such a fearful deficiency of military 
means. 

Under these circumstances the first care of 



LIFE OF WASHIAGTOX. 179 

the commander in chief vvas^ to introduce among 
his soldiers a system of suitable disciphne, to 
create the means of instruction for his officers, 
and to procure, without delay, the munitions 
that were wanting. 

No sooner had he accomplished this, and 
prepared his army to operate cjffensively, than 
he became exceedingly anxious for some achieve- 
ment, that might shed a lustre on the arms of 
his country, and confirm the spirits of the timid 
and wavering. 

For this purpose, he projected, against the 
enemy, various enterprises, all of them marked 
with profound judgment, and some of them pe- 
culiarly bold and daring. But the prudence of 
general Howe, the British commander, who 
kept strictly within his lines, and other circum- 
stances, not subject to human control, prevent- 
ed their accomplishment. 

Thus passed the winter of 1775-6, the British 
army in possession of Boston, and the American 
of the heights and strong holds around it, with- 
out the occurrence of any action to illustrate the 
period. 

By the course he pursued, and the measures 
he adopted, the prudence and skill of the Ame- 
rican commander, were sufficiently manifested; 
but as no assault on the enemy's works had ac- 
tually been made; and as the attacks and adven- 
tures he had secretly meditated, were known only 
to himself, and a few of his officers, some began 
to question his energy and enterprise. In rela- 
tion, however, to this point, doubt and uncertainty 



180 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

were effectually dissipated, by his conduct, on 
various occasions, in the progress of the war. 

To say nothing of the ardour and heroism of 
his youth, the current of future events exhibited, 
in a short time, abundant proof, that the bent of 
his mind was to daring exploits; but, that a con- 
sciousness of the inferiority of his means, and a 
determination, never to hazard, for his own gra- 
tification, the interest of the cause in which he 
was engaged, restrained the native impetuosity 
of his character. To his moral and intellectual 
excellence, therefore, not to any physical defect, 
was his Fabian system — his apparent want of 
enterprise, to be attributed. 

Weary of so long a confinement to his works, 
yet more afraid to venture from behind them; 
and apprehensive, that by some successful stra- 
tagem, the American chief might yet compel 
him to open combat, general Howe, early in the 
spring of 1776, evacuated Boston and sailed to 
the south. 

Washington immediately entered the town, 
where he was received with grateful hearts and 
joyous acclamations, midst the praises and bless- 
ings of a patriotic people, rescued from the op- 
pression of military rule. 

New York became next the theatre of war. 
Foreseeing that this would he the case, the Ame- 
rican leader had some time previously, despatch- 
ed a large detachment of his army, under the 
command of major general Lee, to fortify the 
place, and render it as far as possible capable 
of defence. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOX. 181 

On the part of Great Britain, the campaign 
of 1776, was opened with great preparation and 
pomp; and presented, from its commencement, 
an aspect truly formidable to liberty. Including 
the army and navy, which acted in concert, the 
royal forces, regular, veteran, and well provided, 
amounted to fifty thousand men. 

It is worthy of remark, that, before the actual 
commencement of hostilities, in this campaign, 
general Howe, and his brother, admiral Howe, 
who commanded, at the time, the British fleet, 
attempted to open, in the capacity of civil com- 
missioners, a negotiation with general Washing- 
ton, with a view to effectuate a peace, and a re- 
union of the revolted colonies to the mother 
country. 

Introducing the business, they sent to him, 
under the protection of a flag, a letter, addressed 
to " George Washington, Esq." This he 
promptly refused to receive, because it did not 
recognize the title appertaining to his rank; 
observing at the same time, that, although it was 
not his practice to " sacrifice essentials to punc- 
tilio, yet, in this instance, he deemed it a duty to 
his country, to insist on that respect, which, in 
any other than a public view, he would willingly 
have waved." 

Soon afterwards, adjutant general Patterson, 
of the British army, arrived at the American 
head quarters, bearing a letter from general 
Howe, addressed to " George Washington, &,c. 
&c. &c." 

After presenting himself to the commander in 
Q 



182 LIFE or WASHINGTON. 

chief, with many civil and complimentary ex- 
pressions, the royal messenger ventured to hope, 
that the address of the letter he bore would be 
satisfactory, inasmuch as the et cceteras it con- 
tained, might be considered as implying every 
thing. This courtly exordium was accompanied 
with an assurance, that, by such a procedure, 
the commissioners of his Britannic majesty, 
meant no disrespect to the American command^ 
er; but, that they entertained for him, personal- 
ly, the highest regard. 

General Washington replied in substance, 
that he perceived, in the address of the letter, 
110 recognition of his military rank, or public 
station; " that it was true, the et cceteras implied 
everything, but they also implied any thing; and 
that he should, therefore, decline the receiving 
any letter, directed to him, as a private person, 
when it related to his public station.'^ 

In a conference which ensued, the adjutant 
general observed, that the British commissioners 
were clothed with great powers, and would be 
exceedingly happy, in effecting an accommoda- 
tion. The sententious reply was, " that, from 
what appeared, their powers were only to grant 
pardons; and that they who had committed no 
fault, wanted no pardon." 

In the present campaign, hostihties did not 
commence until the month of August. 

To cope with the powerful and veteran arms 
of Britain, which were posted on Long and Sta- 
ten islands, Washington's whole command did 
not exceed twenty-seven thousand men. Of 



XIFE 0¥ WASHINGTON. 183 

these, two-thirds were mihtia, and one-fourth of 
the whole were on the sick hst. 

By unremitting vigilance and exertion, in su- 
perintending every thing, in person; and by a 
series of wise preparatory measures, he had 
endeavoured, from the commencement of the 
season, to mature his troops for vigorous action. 

A system of strict discipline was introduced 
into the army; an attempt was made to awaken 
the patriotism, pride, and domestic feelings of 
the soldiery and officers, by some of the most 
eloquent and touching addresses, that were ever 
penned; and, to operate on their fears, as well 
as on the nobler feelings of their nature, orders 
were given, to shoot, on the spot, every one who 
should shrink from his duty in battle. 

So excellently were the American forces post- 
ed and arranged, that, although greatly superior 
in numbers and discipline, the enemy were for 
a time, exceedingly cautious in commencing, 
their operations. 

At length, on the S7th of August, a memora- 
ble battle was fought on Long island; in which, 
a large body of Americans, under the command 
of general Sullivan, was every where defeated 
with great slaughter. In the actual command 
of this affair, general Washington had no 
concern. 

Perceiving, however, that the fortune of the 
day was fearfully against him, he passed, in per- 
son, over the East river, with a view to check 
the advance of the victorious enemy, until his 
troops could be withdrawn entirely from the 



184 LTFE OF WASHINGTOIf. 

island. This he effected, with a degree of abili- 
ty and skill, which would, alone, have designated 
him a great commander. 

The two armies were within musket shot of 
each other, with a shght eminence between them; 
the width of the East river is about half a mile; 
and the number of troops to be transported over 
it was nine thousand, with their baggage, tents, 
and field artillery. 

With such address was the movement con- 
ducted, that the retreat was completed before 
the enemy suspected its commencement. Wash- 
ington superintended, in person, the whole trans- 
action. During the performance of these du- 
ties, he was forty-eight hours without sleep, with 
but little refreshment, and on horseback the 
principal part of the time. 

In this secret transportation of his troops, he 
was aided by a dark night, a fair wind, and a 
heavy fog in the morning, which completely co- 
vered him from the view of the enemy. 

To be satisfied that nothing was left undone, 
he remained until the army, and all its baggage 
and equipments, were removed from the Long 
island shore, and embarked himself in the last 
boat. 

Not long after this, an affair occurred, on 
York island, in which, for a moment, the fall of 
Washington appeared inevitable. 

Stung to the soul, by two instances of das- 
tardly and disgraceful conduct in detachments 
of the American soldiery; beheving that, in such 
troops, no confidence could be safely reposed; 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOX. 185 

that, from their want of firmness, the cause of 
freedom would be lost, he himself dishonoured, 
and the yoke of servitude rivetted on his country, 
perhaps, for ages — driven to desperation by such 
prospects, his habitual calmness and equanimity 
forsook him, and, in the rear of his fugitive bat- 
talions, he intentionally exposed himself to the 
fire of the enemy, in the hope that a ball might 
terminate his life, and save him the agony of 
surviving, for a moment, the liberties of his 
country. 

But, as on former occasions, to preserve him 
for ulterior and higher purposes, a protecting 
Providence appeared to be around him, until by 
dint of importunity, amounting to indirect vio- 
lence, his aids succeeded in removing him from 
danger. 

The American commancfer next presents him- 
self under circumstances much more disastrous, 
and in a conjunction of affairs, more gloomy 
and portentous than any that had preceded. 

We find him at the head of an army reduced 
in numbers to one-fourth of its original amount, 
in want of provisions, unclad, and without tents, 
although winter had commenced, suffering from 
sickness, and broken-spirited from defeat and 
misfortune. We find him thus, retreating 
through the state of New Jersey, before lord 
Cornvvallis, by far the ablest of the British offi- 
cers, at the jiead of an overwhelming force, 
healthy, flushed with victory, and supplied with 
the necessaries and munitions of war. Add to 
this, that the American people, in all parts of 
Q 2 



186 XIFE OF MASHllNGTON. 

the country, were beginning to despond, and 
even the bravest were ahnost ready to abandon 
the contest, and stipulate terms of safety with 
the conqueror. 

In this state of things, and a more cheerless 
and threatening one can scarcely be imagined, 
the soul of Washington, if not actually serene, 
was calm, steady, and undismayed: he was, li- 
terally, the stay and support of his army. With- 
out his spirits to sustain it, and the point of at- 
traction he formed in the midst of it, in conse- 
quence of the love and veneration it bore him, 
an utter and immediate dissolution of it would 
have ensued. 

It was at this gloomy conjuncture of Ameri- 
can affairs, that, to the joy and astonishment of 
his bleeding and almost subjugated country, the 
full extent of his resources as a commander 
burst forth at once as the brightness of the sun 
from the bosom of an eclipse. 

On the 25th of December, the weather being 
extremely cold, the British and American forces 
were separated only by the river Delaware, the 
former being encamped in three divisions on the 
Jersey shore, at Trenton, Bordenton and Bur- 
lington; the latter, on the Pennsylvania shore, 
immediately opposite, to watch their movements, 
and act accordingly. "Now," said Washing- 
ton, " is the time to clip their wings, when they 
are so widely spread." At the head of a de- 
tachment of about 2400 Americans, many of 
them militia, he projected an attack on the post 



IIFE OF WASHINGTON. 187 

at Trenton, consisting of 1500 Hessians, and a 
small squadron of British horse. 

The passage of the intervening stream, swol- 
len and rapid from a late fall of rain, and filled 
with large masses of floating ice, presented an 
enterprise dangerous and appalling. But no- 
thing could intimidate the soul, or shake the de- 
liberate resolution of Washington, who, in the 
present instance, had successfully infused his 
spirit into his troops. The perils of the river 
were entirely forgotten in the glory anticipated 
on its eastern bank. 

Early in the evening of Christmas day the de- 
tachment was in motion, but such were the dif- 
ficulties and delays of their passage of the Dela- 
ware, that they were not ready until 4 o'clock 
of the following morning to take up their march 
on the Jersey shore. 

Divided into two columns, one of which was 
led by the commander in chief, they advanced 
in silence on the post of the enemy, attacked it 
almost at the same moment, and, after a short 
resistance, carried it with a very slight loss, 
killing and capturing about 900 men. 

To the British, who had heretofore been vic- 
torious in every thing, this was not only an un- 
expected, but a heavy and a mortifying stroke; to 
the Americans it was the day-star of reviving 
hope. It convinced the former that they were 
not invincible; and the latter, that they were 
able to fight and conquer. 

On the evening of the same day, Washington 
returned to the Pennsylvania side of the river, 



188 LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 

for the safe-keeping of his prisoners, and hav- 
ing disposed of them in places of security, with 
orders to treat them with great kindness, re- 
crossed into Jersey, and took a position in the 
village of Trenton. 

To retrieve the loss, and efface the stain 
which the royal arms had experienced in the 
capture of the Hessians, lord Cornwallis, as- 
sembling the whole of his forces at Princeton, 
moved towards the encampment of the Ameri- 
cans, with a view to compel them to an imme- 
diate action. 

It was essential that Washington should avoid 
this, as he was by far too feeble to meet his ad- 
versary in open combat; yet, to do it by a re- 
treat, would hazard the city of Philadelphia, 
and check the reviving hope and confidence 
with which his late success had inspired his 
countrymen. He resolved, therefore, in a coun- 
cil of his officers, on another high and daring 
adventure. 

On the evening of the 2d of January, 1777, 
the two hostile armies found themselves posted 
within the village of Trenton, separated only by 
a small stream of water; the Americans having 
in their rear the river Delaware, swollen with a 
fresh, filled with floating ice, and therefore of 
difficult passage, and the British forces within 
musket shot in their front, lord Cornwallis felt 
assured that they could not now escape, but 
would be compelled of necessity to meet him in 
battle. Under this persuasion he encamped for 
the night, determined on action early in the 



LITE OF WASHINGTON. 189 

morning. The Americans also pitched their 
tentSj and kindled fires, as preparatory to 
repose. 

But, in a situation so perilous, when enter- 
prise invited him, Washington had other views 
than that of rest. At Princeton, ten miles in 
the rear of the enemy, w as posted a large de- 
tachment of British troops. To attack this by 
surprise, not to encounter the main body, was 
now the object of the American commander. 

The better to conceal his movements, and 
prevent suspicion, he appointed a guard, to 
keep the fires burning, and, within hearing of 
the British sentinels, to counterfeit the duties of 
military watch. These arrangements being 
made, he took up, in silence, about the hour of 
midnight, the line of march, and passing unno- 
ticed the left flank of the enemy, reached their 
post at Princeton a little before sunrise. 

The conflict which ensued was severe and 
sanguinary. The Philadelphia militia being 
placed in front, fell back on receiving the Bri- 
tish fire, and were on the point of producing 
confusion among the regulars. The moment 
was critical — pregnant perhaps with the fate of 
freedom. Perceiving that every thing was at 
stake, Washington advanced in person to\^ards 
the British line, regardless of the bullets that 
were flying around him, and authoritatively 
called on his troops to follow him. 

Tile movement was decisive. Seeing their 
venerated commander in danger, and determined 
to support him or perish in the attempt, the mi- 



190 LIFE OF M ASHINGTOX. 

litia halted, and returned the enemy's Are, 
while the regulars rushed to the charge with a 
spirit that bore down all opposition. After a 
short resistance the British fled from tlie field, 
and were pursued by the Americans for several 
hours. 

The loss of the enemy in killed, wounded, 
and prisoners, amounted to six hundred; the 
Americans had sixty-four killed, and about one 
hundred and twenty wounded. Among the for- 
mer was tiie gallant general Mercer. 

So con)pletely in this affair did general Wash- 
ington elude the vigilance of the enemy in Tren- 
ton, that they were preparing in the morning to 
attack him in his encampment at that place, 
when they heard the report of his cannon at 
Piinceton. 

In his march by night on this occasion, it is 
difficult to resist the belief that Washington 
acted under a special Providence. 

For a few days previously the weather having 
been warm and rainy, the roads were so deep 
and heavy as to be scarcely practicable for ar- 
tillery and wagons. But on the evening of the 
2d, several hours before the Americans moved 
from their position, the clonds were dispersed, 
the wind shifted to the northwest, and the cold 
became so severe as suddenly to freeze the 
roads, and render them passable with ease and 
expedition. This occurrence, common and 
without weight as it may appear to many, had 
no small influence on the affairs of America. It 
strengthened confidence, and augmented exer- 



l.IFE OF WASHINGTON. 191 

tioii, by inducing the pious, very generally, to 
believe, that it was a manifest token of the 
smiles of Heaven on the arms of freedom. 

It is not extravagant to assert, that the victo- 
ries of Trenton and Princeton were decisive of 
the issue of the existing war. They procured 
for the United States the alliance of France and 
the friendship of other powers, and by convin- 
cing the American people of the competency of 
their armies, encouraged them to endure priva- 
tions and persevere in the contest. 

But, under Providence, Washington was the 
author of these victories; to him, therefore, with 
the same limitation, we are compelled to attri- 
bute the ultimate achievement of the indepen- 
dence of America. 

Retiring now with his suffering army into 
winter quarters, he made so judicious an ar- 
rangement of posts, as to prevent his troops 
from being attacked or insulted by superior 
numbers, and at the same time to protect the 
country from the depredations of the enemy. 

The campaign of 1 777 opened in New Jersey 
with a fair trial of military skill between the Ame- 
rican and British commanders; the former deter- 
mined to avoid, the latter to bring on, a general 
action. In this contest Washington manifested 
a great superiority. Without either retreating 
or sheltering himself behind his works, he moved 
so circumspectly, and selected his positions 
with such consummate judgment, that his ad- 
versary, although possessed of nearly treble his 
force, did not dare to attack him. So vigilant 



1U2 LUK OF WASlll^GT^'ON. 

and active too were his scouts and small detach- 
inentSj that the British foraging parties could 
rarely penetrate into the country to any distance 
from their main body without being assaulted, 
and frequently captured. 

Battled in his attempts against the American 
army, and dreading the elfects of some new and 
successful enterprise of Washington, general 
Howe embarked in the month of July with his 
whole army, and touched first at Halifax, sailed 
afterwards to the south, and landed at the head 
of the Chesapeake bay about the middle of Au- 
gust. The capture of Philadelphia was now his 
object. 

To prevent this if possible, to gratify what he 
knew to be the expectation of his country, and 
in obedience to the express desire of Congress, 
rather than from the dictates of his own judg- 
ment, Washington, on the ttth of September, 
fought the celebrated battle of Brandywine. 

This was not only the most general, but from 
the amount of what was staked on it, the most 
important action, that had occurred since the 
commencement of the war. 

Although the eifective force of the American 
commander was considerably inferior to that of 
the British, victory appeared, at one moment, 
to be within his grasp, by means of a daring 
movement which he was on the point of execut- 
ing; but, from false intelligence at that instant 
brought to him, which had the effect of produc- 
ing a momentary delay, the opportunity for ac- 
tion was lost, and with it the chance of victory. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 193 

Bat the misfortune of the day detracted no- 
thing from the reputation of Washington. From 
a conviction that he had done every tiling with- 
in the scope of the means at his disposal to de- 
serve success, the confidence of his country in 
him remained unshaken. So indefatigable and 
effective were his exertions to repair whatever 
disasters he had sustained, that he even at- 
tained, in public estimation, a higher standing. 
He, whose firmness appeared to be augmented 
by defeat, was deemed invincible. To convince 
the American people, that neither his own nor 
the spirit of his army was in the slightest degree 
broken by the affair of Brandywine, he shortly 
afterwards offered battle, which general Hovt^e 
thought proper to decline. 

The enemy was now in possession of Phila- 
delphia, with a strong division as an advanced 
guard in the village of Germantown. 

That post general Washington attempted to 
carry by assault on the 4th of October. 

For a time the action was desperate and 
bloody. The attack was planned with the 
judgment of a great captain; but the several di- 
visions of the assailants being prevented from 
acting in concert by the fogginess of the morn- 
ing which obscured their vision, and other ac- 
cidents occurring, from the irregular movements 
of bodies of troops but imperfectly disciplined, 
the enterprise, which promised at its com- 
mencement a glorious issue, proved unsuc- 
cessful. 

For his noble daring; however, on this occa- 

R 



194 I.IFE OF WASHINGTON. 

sion; the wisdom of his measures, which the 
fortune of war prevented him from accomphsh- 
ing; the fortitude with which he met disaster, 
and his abundant resources manifested in re- 
pairing it; for his " great good conduct" in the 
whole affair, Washington received from Con- 
gress a vote of thanks. 

Shortly after the battle of Germantown, ano- 
ther trial of skill in military movement occurred 
between him and general Howe in the neigh- 
bourhood of Whitemarsh. In this, as in a for- 
mer instance, the latter was surpassed; and, to 
escape the effect of some deep-laid scheme of 
adventure, returned precipitately to his post in 
Philadelphia, without effecting any of the ob- 
jects for which he had left it. 

The succeeding winter, general Washington 
passed in winter quarters at the Valley Forge. 
While here he was assailed with whatever could 
distress, embarrass and disgust. An army naked, 
unpaid, frequently almost in a state of famine, 
and at times of mutiny; a Congress shattered in 
its energies, and slow and enfeebled in its mea- 
sures by division and discord; and a malignant 
faction plotting his deposition from the supreme 
command — these were some of the evils which, 
during the winter of 1777-8, tried the patience 
and firmness of Washington. But they could 
not subdue him. 

For the wants of his army, he provided, con- 
sidering his means, to the utmost extent of what 
humanity could perform: into Congress he en- 
deavoured, somewhat successfully, to infuse a 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. J 95 

spirit of unanimity, by awakening their patriot- 
ism, and faithfully portraying to them the dan- 
gers of their country: and, to the machinations 
of those who were meditating his degradation, 
he opposed, in silence, the rectitude of his views, 
the services he had performed, and the unsullied 
purity and weight of his reputation. None of 
their secret insinuations did he deign to notice; 
to none of their open accusations, did he conde- 
scend to reply. 

In every thing he had the peculiar felicity to 
triumph. His troops were kept in service, and 
restrained from mutinous conduct, by their at- 
tachment to his person, and their gratitude for 
his paternal cares, and unremitting exertions to 
provide for their wants; Congress adopted many 
of the salutary measures he recommended for 
the defence of the country; and the party of 
malcontents, who were bent on his overthrow, 
frustrated in all their schemes of intrigue, sunk 
beneath the weight of public odium, and the 
secret reproaches of offended conscience. 

With the return of spring opened the cam- 
paign of 1 7 78, the British, now under the com- 
mand of sir Henry Clinton, within their lines, 
the Americans in well selected positions around 
them. Having been, for some time, in the con- 
dition, and suffering most of the inconveniences 
of an actual siege, the former were induced, on 
the 17th and 18th of June, to abandon Philadel- 
phia, and march towards the north. 

In their retreat through New Jersey, general 
Washington galled them exceedingly, by press- 



196 LIFE or WASHINGTON. 

ing on their rear, and was anxious to compel 
them to a general engagement. In this he was 
opposed by a majority of his officers. Indulg- 
ing, however, his disposition to enterprise, be- 
cause he now thought his effective force but 
httle inferior to that of his adversary, and as- 
suming to himself the entire responsibility in 
relation to the event, he adopted such measures 
as effected his purpose. 

On the 28th of June, he brought the enemy 
to action, on the plains of Monmouth. After a 
day of sanguinary conflict, and a scene of fatigue 
which proved mortal, of itself, to many of the 
soldiers, night suspend|d4heir operations, and 
the troops, on both si|K rested on their arms, 
on the field of battle. ^^ 

General Washington, himself, in the midst of 
his soldiers, the earth, spread with his cloak, 
his bed, the root of a large tree his pillow, and 
its branches his only covering from the heavens, 
reposed a few hours, resolved on a renewal of 
battle in the morning. But in this he was dis- 
appointed by an unexpected measure, dictated 
by the prudence of the British commander. 

Crippled by the combat of the preceding day, 
and dreading some more 'serious disaster on the 
next, general Clinton retreated in the night in 
such perfect silence, that the American senti- 
nels, posted within musket shot of his lines, were 
ignorant of his movement. 

Content with the advantage he had already 
gained, and willing to indulge his soldiers in a 
longer repose, after a day of such excessive fa- 



tIFE OF WASHIXGTON. 



tigue, general Washington declined the pursuit 
of his vanquished adversary. 

The Americans lost in this engagement, in 
killed and wounded, two hundred and fifty men; 
the British, in killed, wounded, and prisoners, 
three hundred and fifty. 

During tlie remainder of the present cam- 
paign, and the whole of those of 1779 and 1780, 
it was not the fortune of the commander in chief 
to be personally concerned in any \ery splendid 
military achievement. But his great and patri- 
otic mind was not the less actively or usefully 
engaged, in superintending the highest interests 
of his country. 

His correspondence alone, during this period, 
with Congress, the governors of states, and the 
generals and other officers, commanding divi- 
sions, detachments, and posts, would seem to be 
more than the business of an individual. But, 
to a man of a vigorous and practical intellect, 
who recognizes no value in time, except the 
useful employment of it, a sphere of duties too 
extensive for performance, can scarcely be pre- 
sented. 

The war had raged for some time in the 
south. From that quarter, lord Cornwallis, in 
1781, at the head of an army of ten thousand 
chosen troops, advanced towards the middle 
states, and, about the close of the summer, took 
post in Yorktown, in the state of Virginia. 
Sir Henry Clinton, with a strong gamson under 
his command, was in possession of New York.. 
General Washington, with a combined army of 
r2 



198 LIFE OF AVASHINGTON. 

Americans and French, was preparing to lay 
siege to that city, and admiral count De Crasse. 
arriving from France with a powerful fleet, 
took command of the waters of the Chesapeake 
Bay. 

Here was an excellent state of things, for a 
grand display of mihtary pohcy. Nor did Wash- 
ington suffer the opportunity to pass unimproved. 

Having succeeded, by means of an intercepted 
letter, in coiivincing the British commander, in 
New York, of his fixed determination to besiege 
that garrison^ he moved by easy marches to the 
south, with a view to operate against lord Corn- 
wallis; and was so far on his route, before his 
actual intentions were fathomed by general Clin- 
ton, that no impediment could be thrown in his 
way by that officer. Thus did he again evince 
a manifest superiority in military skill. 

On the 28th of September, general Washing- 
ton, at the head of 16,000 French and Ameri- 
can troops, made a regular investure of York- 
town, where lord Cornwallis lay strongly forti- 
fied. Count de Grasse, at the same time, so 
completely obstructed all access by water, that 
through that channel his lordship could neither 
escape nor receive succour. 

Thus commenced the celebrated siege, which 
terminated on the 19th October, in the surren- 
der of lord Cornwallis and his whole army. 
Every important measure and movement con- 
nected with it, passed under the immediate in- 
spection of Washington. The entire scheme of 
the campaign was his; and never, perhaps, in 



I^IFE OF AVASlilXGTON. 199 

any age or country, has one been devised with 
more wisdom, or executed with a sounder judg- 
ment. 

For the excellence of their conduct on this 
occasion, general Washington, with his officers 
and soldiers, received the unanimous thanks of 
Congress. 

This was the last achievement of arms in 
which it was his fortune to be ever engaged. In 
itself it was brilliant; in its consequences most 
important. It gave peace to his country; shed 
a higher lustre on the American name; and, in 
relation to himself, completed his reputation as 
a great captain. 

In the winter of 1781-2, when the American 
troops lay in quarters on the North river, a spirit 
of wild discontent began to prevail among them, 
in consequence of Congress withholding from 
them the arrearages of their pay. The embers 
of revolt, which were glowing already, were, at 
one moment, near being blown into a devouring 
flame, by some artful and eloquent letters from 
an unknown pen, circulated among the officers, 
as well as the soldiery, urging them by all the 
motives to action, arising out of suffering, beg- 
gary, and scorn, to appeal from the justice to 
the fears of Congress, and assert their claims, 
if longer refused, at the point of the bayonet. 

At this most critical and eventful conjuncture, 
when the sword of civil war seemed half un- 
sheathed, Washington was again the protector of 
his country. Assembling around him his field 
officers and captains, he addressed them, in a 



:iOO XIFE OF WASUIKGTOX. 

strain of patriotic eloquence, wliich proved irre- 
sistible. Keen as were their present sufferings, 
and gloomy their future prospects, as anticipated 
poverty, with its distressing effects and galling 
concomitants could render them, they became, 
for the moment, insensible to them all, and 
passed, before dispersing, a unanimous resolu- 
tion, to refrain from violent measures themselves, 
to discountenance it in others, and, for the set- 
tlement of their claims to trust to the justice of 
Congress and their country. It was the personal 
influence of the commander in chief, the love 
and veneration his officers bore him, much more 
than any other consideration, that gained for 
patriotism a triumph so glorious. 

On the conclusion of peace, which soon after- 
wards took place, Washington, to preserve un- 
sullied the reputation of the soldiery, and pre- 
vent the mischiefs that might result from law- 
less combinations of them, still in possession of 
their arms, adopted principles in the disbanding 
of his army which manifested in him great judg- 
ment, and a profound knowledge of human na- 
ture. 

Having passed a few days in New York, he 
took a solemn and affecting leave of his officers, 
who had fondly lingered around him for the pur- 
pose; and proceeded to Annapolis, in Maryland, 
where Congress was in session, to resign his 
-commission into the hands that had bestowed it. 

In passing through Philadelphia, he exhibited 
to the comptroller of accounts, a statement, in 
his own hand writing, of all his expenditures, as 



XIFE OF WASHINGTON. 201 

commander in chief, during an eight years war. 
Including secret service money, they amoimted 
to 14,476/. 18s. 9rf. sterling; a sum greatly be- 
low the privileges of his rank, and inconceivably 
disproportioned to the good it had been instru- 
mental in procuring for his country. 

The scene of his resignation, at Annapolis, of 
the supreme command of the armies of his 
country, was august and moving. He accom- 
panied it with an eloquent and impressive con- 
gratulatory address, on the achievement of inde- 
pendence and the conclusion of peace, which 
was reciprocated in a suitable and dignified re- 
ply by the president of Congress. Although he 
thus voluntarily, and with sentiments of peculiar 
gratification, laid aside the character of the high- 
est officer of the United States, it was not in his 
power to divest himself of that of her foremost 
citizen. The former attribute having been be- 
stowed on him by man, was accidental and tem- 
porary; the latter, being the gift of Heaven, was 
incorporated in his nature, and lasting as his 
existence. 

Happy in himself, from a recollection of the 
labours and dangers he had passed, and an anti- 
cipation of future tranquillity and enjoyment: 
an object of the love and admiration of his coun- 
try; the idol of the officers and soldiers he had 
commanded; and, bearing with him the grati- 
tude and blessings of a liberated people, he now 
withdrew to his seat on the Potomac, and resumed 
his domestic and agricultural pursuits, resolvedj- 
never again to mingle in the tumults, or encoun- 
ter the solicitudes of public fife. 



202 XirE or WASHINGTOxV. 

But from this determination future events 
compelled him, from a sense of duty, to depart. 
Endowed with every requisite to lead in civil, no 
less than in military life, his country had not yet 
received from him all the services he was quali- 
fied to perform. Contrary, therefore, to what he 
once considered an inflexible resolution, he felt 
himself again obligated to obey her call, and 
exchange, for her welfare, the retirement he 
loved, for the toils and responsibility of public 
station. 

We accordingly find him by the unanimous 
suffrage of his colleagues, president of the con- 
vention of delegates, which met in Philadelphia 
in the year 1 787, with a view to strengthen and 
render more effective the federal union, and the 
deliberations of which resulted in the formation 
of our present constitution. 

On the adoption of that instrument by the 
several states, the eyes of America and Europe 
were instinctively turned to him as the first pre- 
sident. 

He did not, however, consent to serve in that 
capacity, until after much and very serious deli- 
beration. But urged by letters from all quarters, 
and convinced, at length, that duty imperiously 
demanded of him the sacrifice, he suffered him- 
self to be nominated for the office, which was 
conferred on him by the unanimous vote of the 
electors. Thus, singular in every thing, it was 
not even permitted him to shun the public hon- 
ours in the gift of his fellow citizens, although 
he exerted himself as zealously to avoid being 



LIFE or WASHINGTON. 203 

invested with them as other individuals do to 
obtain them. 

The first Congress under the federal consti- 
tution, met in New York on the 4th of March 
1789. 

On his way thither to be inducted into the 
office of chief magistrate, Washington was re- 
ceived at the towns and cities through which he 
had to pass, with all the marks of honour and 
distinction a grateful and enlightened people 
could bestow. Gratulatory addresses were every 
where presented to him. The streets and high- 
ways were thronged with exulting and admi- 
ring thousands, anxious to behold the elect of 
his country. Triumphal arches were erected 
for him, and the materials of which they were 
composed preserved as relics of invaluable 
worth; crowns of laurel were placed on his head, 
by machinery ingeniously constructed for the 
purpose: odes, composed for the occasion and 
commemorative of his high and heroic achieve- 
ments, were chanted in his presence; the aged 
approached him with their prayers and benedic- 
tions; and, by the hands of innocence, youth and 
beauty, flowers were collected and strewed in 
the way. 

Never, in honour of any individual, did the 
world, as is firmly believed, behold a burst of joy 
so universal, so exquisite, and so sincere. To 
kings and emperors, the homage of their sub- 
jects is ostentatious and loud; but, as if paid to 
them in mockery, it is cold, counterfeit, and fo- 
reign from the affections. That to Washington, 



204 LIVE. Of "\V ASHINGTOJi. 

from his fellow citizens and countrymen, being 
an offering of unfeigned veneration, was sponta- 
neous, genuine, and warm from the heart. 

This representation of the scenes that occur- 
red, although to some, perhaps, it may appear 
exaggerated, if not fictitious, is short of reality. 
No language can competently picture the ex- 
uberance of rejoicing, heightened by the play of 
the nobler affections, and constituting a perfect 
jubilee of soul, which the great and interesting 
event excited. 

Having been invested with the office of chief 
magistrate, with the forms and solemnities suita- 
ble to the occasion, he entered, without delay, 
on the arduous and responsible duties appertain- 
ing to it. 

The organization of a government for a great 
and growing empire, where conflicting interests 
are to be reconciled and provided for; where, at 
home, the spirit of freedom is to be fostered and 
confirmed, yet restrained from passing to the ex- 
treme of licentiousness; to establish foreign re- 
lations with nations formidable in arms, skilled 
in diplomacy, and ambitious of power and wealth, 
without being scrupulous as to the means of at- 
taining them; to institute a scheme of I'evenue, 
sufficiently productive, yet not oppressive: to se- 
lect individuals, at so portentous a conjuncture, 
qualified to fill the offices of state: these are some 
of the high functions, in all of which it became 
now the province of Washington to co-operate, 
in many of them to direct; and it must be con- 



LIFE OF M ASUINGTON. £03 

fessed, that, for their clue fulfilment, they re- 
quire an intellect of the highest order, expanded 
and matured, by all that observation and expe- 
rience, reflection and study, are calculated to im- 
part. 

Of the wisdom and policy of the measures of 
his administration, their felicitous effects on the 
condition of his country constitute testimony am- 
ple and conclusive. 

Industry, in every shape, began immediately 
to revive and be invigorated. Commerce became 
active; agriculture prosperous; the sphere of arts 
and manufactures were extended; and literature 
and science began to flourish. 

For an analysis of his administration, sufficient 
space cannot be allowed in this sketch. It may 
be permitted, however, briefly to observe, that 
the hostile tribes of Indians on our western 
frontiers, were subdued or concihated; existing 
difficulties with foreign nations were honourably 
adjusted; public credit was restored; treaties of 
amity and commerce were formed, on advanta- 
geous terms; and, as the result of the whole, the 
country was peaceful, prosperous and happy. 

Of the administration of Washington, we may 
truly say, with a late writer, that it was " found- 
ed in justice, organized by wisdom, directed by 
virtue, and guarded by honour. Abroad it could 
not fail to command respect, nor to be productive 
of extensive utility at home. It was a spectacle 
in political ethics, worthy to fix the attention and 
command the admiration of the rulers of nations. 
Ministers might be instructed by it in the art of 

s 



206 IIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

governing, and monarchs learn how to give 
splendour and stability to thrones. For the libe- 
rality of its views, the soundness of its principles, 
the correctness of its details, and the dignitied 
grandeur and firmness of its march, it was a chef 
d'ouvre of human achievement." 

The close of the second constitutional period 
of his administration terminated the presidential 
career of Washington. Although assured, from 
all quarters, of easy success, should he consent 
to continue in the service of his country, he re- 
solutely declined being again considered a can- 
didate for the office. Of him may be said, 
what is not, perhaps, true of any other mortal, 
that, after a trial of eight years, during a most 
stormy period of the world, when difficulties 
pressed on him from every direction, he retired 
from a station derived from the people, and 
supreme in responsibility and care, his reputa- 
tion without a stain, and the confidence of his 
constituents in him undiminished. 

On this occasion, like a father retiring from 
the superintendence of his family, he took leave 
of his country in a valedictory address, affection- 
ate, eloquent, and replete with the soundest poli- 
tical advice, touching her highest and most vital 
concerns. 

The political truths contained in this address 
ought to be engraven upon the hearts of his coun- 
trymen. In the most earnest manner he called up- 
on them to cherish an immoveable attachment to 
the national union, to watch for its preservation 
with jealous anxiety, to discountenance even the 



1-IFE OF WASHINGTON. 207 

suggestion, that it could in any event be aban- 
doned, and indignantly to frown upon the first 
dawning of every attempt to ahenate any por- 
tion of our country from the rest. Overgrown 
mihtary establishments he represented as par- 
ticularly hostile to republican liberty. While 
he recommended the most implicit obedience to 
the acts of the established government, and re- 
probated all obstructions to the execution of the 
laws, all combinations and associations, under 
whatever plausible character, with the real de- 
sign to direct, control,, counteract, or awe the 
regular deliberation and action of the constituted 
authorities, he wished also to guard against the 
spirit of innovation upon the principles of the 
constitution. Aware that the energy of the sys- 
tem might be enfeebled by alterations, he thought 
that no change should be made without an evi- 
dent necessity, and that in so extensive a coun- 
try, as much vigour as is consistent with liberty 
is indispensable. On the other hand, he pointed 
out the danger of a real despotism, by breaking 
down the partitions between the several depart- 
ments of government, by destroying the recipro- 
cal checks, and consolidating the different 
powers. Against the spirit of party, so peculiarly 
baneful in an elective government, he uttered 
his most solemn remonstrances, as well as against 
inveterate antipathies or passionate attachments 
in respect to foreign nations. While he thought 
that the jealousy of a free people ought to be 
constantly and impartially awake against the in- 
sidious wiles of foreign influence, he wished that 



208 tlFE OF WASHINGTOKT. 

good faith and justice should be observed towards 
all nations, and peace and harmony cultivated. 
In his opinion, honesty, no less in public than in 
private affairs, is always the best policy. Provi- 
dence, he believed, had connected the perma- 
nent felicity of a nation with its virtue. Other 
subjects, to which he alluded, were the im- 
portance of credit, of economy, the reduction of 
the public debt, and of literary institutions; 
above all, he recommended religion and morahty 
as indispensably necessary to political prosperity. 
"In vain," says he, "would that man claim the 
tribute of patriotism, who should labour to sub- 
vert these great pillars of human happiness, 
these firmest props of the duties of men and 
citizens." 

Bequeathing these counsels to his country-- 
men, he continued in office till the 4th March, 
1797, when he attended the inauguration of his 
successor, Mr. Adams, and with complacency 
savi^ him invested with the powers, which had 
for so long a time been exercised by himself. 
He then retired to Mount Vernon. 

Notwithstanding his maturity in glory, and 
weight of years, he again, in 1798, stood pre- 
pared to emerge from the shades of his chosen 
retirement, and assume the chief command of 
the armies of America, against an invasion me- 
ditated by France; but, peace taking place with- 
out any attempt on the part of the enemy, he 
did not actually appear in arms. On accepting, 
at this time the appointment to supreme com- 
mand, he stipulated with government not to take 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOX. 



the field unless, from the approach of the foe, 
his services should be wanted. His willingness 
to submit to the sacrifice, sustain the privation, 
encounter the duties, and incur the risk apper- 
taining to this station, manifests in him a degree 
of pure, magnanimous, and disinterested patri- 
otism, which, in the history of man, is no where 
else to be found. 

We are now approaching to an event that 
consummated the glory of Washington, by plac- 
ing it beyond the power of time to diminish br 
misfortune to tarnish it. 

On Friday, December 13, 1799, while at- 
tending some improvements upon his estate, he 
was exposed to a light rain, which wetted his 
neck and hair. Unapprehensive of danger, he 
passed the afternoon in his usual manner, but 
at night he was attacked with an inflammatory 
affection of the throat. So obstinate, and at the 
same time, so violent was the disease, that not- 
withstanding all that medicine could perform, it 
terminated fatally on the following night. 

His death scene was like his life, calm, in- 
trepid, full of self possession, and free from 
complaint. 

Perceiving the inefficacy of medical aid, and 
convinced from his feehngs that dissolution was 
approaching, he requested of his friends and at- 
tendants around him permission to die without 
further interruption. 

Assent to this request being signified by si- 
lence and tears, he undressed himself without 
the least emotion, placed himself in bed in a 
s2 



CIO XIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

suitable attitude, closed his eyes with his own 
hand, and expired without a struggle or a 
groan. 

The melancholy event was soon announced 
in every quarter of the United States. The ma- 
nifestation of public sorrow was without a paral- 
lel. Six millions of people felt, on the occasion, 
the affliction of a family for the loss of a parent. 

Congress was in session in the city of Phila- 
delphia. No sooner did the rumour of the vi- 
sitation reach them, than, rendered by the shock 
unfit for business, they immediately adjourned. 

On the morning of the following day they 
again met, when the mournful intelligence be- 
ing fully confirmed, chief justice Marshall, then 
member of the house of representatives, formally 
announced the event in a very solenm, impres- 
sive, and suitable address. 

It was in a resolution, moved by him on the 
occasion, that in language so forcible, charac- 
teristic, and correct, suggested to him, as he 
acknowledged, by general Harry Lee, he pro- 
nounced the deceased, "first in war, first in 
peace, and first in the hearts of his fellow citizens." 

Letters of condolence passed between the dif- 
ferent branches of the government, and, by a 
unanimous resolution of Congress, a magnificent 
funeral procession took place the following week, 
and an eulogy was prepared and pronounced on 
the occasion by general Lee, of Virginia, com- 
memorative of the character and achievements 
of the deceased. 

This was but the commencement of the pub- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 211, 

lie honours that were paid by his country to the 
memory of Washington. In various other places 
similar processions were formed, and in every 
section of the union funeral sermons were 
preached, eulogies delivered, and elegies writ- 
ten, until the whole population appeared to 
unite in one universal offering of homage to the 
man, who had given to them independence, 
freedom, and a government. 

Nor did Europe withhold her tribute of praise. 
Some of the ablest pens and most eloquent 
tongues in that quarter of the globe were liberal 
in their eulogies on ''the man of the age." 
While living, no individual ever stood higher in 
the estimation of the world, nor has received, as 
I confidently believe, so ample a meed of post- 
humous applause. 

In his public capacity, Washington may be 
contemplated in the light of a warrior, a states- 
man, and a writer. 

In the first he possessed in an eminent degree 
all the attributes, corporeal and intellectual, re- 
quisite in a commander of the highest order. 

In his appearance alone he carried the pi'ero- 
gative of supreme authority. No man could ap- 
proach him free from sentiments of inferiority 
and awe. Yet, this did not arise from the 
sternness of his aspect, or the severity of his 
manners. It was the result of a combination of 
majestic qualities which, whether motionless or 
in action, he uniformly although unconsciously 
exhibited. 

As a military leader, there exists in history no 



212 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

name with which he can be aptly and in all res- 
pects compared. In the happy mixture of deli- 
berate caution and daring enterprise wiiich he 
manifested in his character, he appears to have 
been unique. His fortitude and perseverance 
were in some respects no less dangerous to his 
adversary than his courage and address. 

In prudence and foresight he had no superior 
and but few equals. Notwithstanding the vigi- 
lant, artful, and able enemies, with whom he 
had often to contend, he never, when command- 
ing in person, was surprised, seduced into an 
ambuscade, or compelled to give battle on dis- 
advantageous ground. Yet his own success was 
frequently owing to a sudden and unlooked-for 
attack on his foe. This circumstance is the 
more remarkable and worthy to be recorded, 
seeing that, when but a youth, he often com- 
manded small parties on the very lines of the 
enemy, where ambuscade and surprise must 
have been frequently attempted. 

His firmness and self possession in the midst 
of disaster, united to the vast extent of his re- 
sources, enabled him not unfrequently to turn 
to his advantage even misfortune and defeat. 

But the great strength of his military charac- 
ter consisted in his singular capacity to blind and 
liiislead, in relation both to his forces and move- 
ments, and to adapt his conduct with wonderful 
precision to the state of his own means and the 
resources of his enemy. When in a condition 
to give battle with a prospect of success, no 
leader ever offered it with a spirit of higher gal- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 213 

iantry, or staked more liberally his reputation 
and fortunes on the issue of the sword. But, if 
on a deliberate calculation the chances were 
against him, no art nor insult — not even the im- 
patient murmurings and insinuations that he 
wanted energy of his own party, could force him 
to engage. In the battle of Brandywine alone 
did he ever depart from this principle. Even 
here it was the will of Congress rather than the 
impatience or importunity of the pubhc that 
urged him to action. 

It was this capacity, the highest unquestion- 
ably a commander can possess, that led him with 
success and glory through the war of the revo- 
lution. Without it, he would have wasted to no 
purpose the resources of his country, and ruined 
by misconduct the cause of freedom. 

As a statesman and a patriot he surpassed all 
others in the purity of his motives, and in the 
steadiness, warmth, and disinterestedness of his 
attachment to his country. No mortal except 
himself ever served his fellow citizens without 
emolument or any acquisition of power, for the 
space of sixteen years, in the most elevated offi- 
ces in their power to bestow. 

In this capacity his views were liberal, and 
his knowledge, derived much less from books 
than from observation, and a thorough acquain- 
tance with man, was extensive, profound, and 
altogether practical. He had learned to govern 
by studying well the nature and character of the 
beings to be governed. 

Superior to party prejudices and local par*-' 



214 LIFE OF WASHINGTOX. 

tialities, justice was the basis, and public good 
the end of his administration. As president of 
the United States, every section of his country 
vvas equally an object of his vigilant attention 
and paternal solicitude. The east and west, and 
the north and the south, experienced alike the 
kindness of his heart and the meliorating influ- 
ence of his great mind. As chief magistrate of 
tlic nation, the nation and all its interests were 
his care 

Towards foreign governments, his conduct 
was regulated by the established principles of in- 
ternational law. While for their rights and in- 
terests he cherished and manifested a sacred re- 
gard, he exacted from them an inviolable observ- 
ance of a similar conduct towards the United 
States. In all his transactions, whether domes- 
tic or foreign, justice, impartiality, and good 
faith, were conscientiously maintained. He ap- 
peared to hold himself responsible in his private 
character for any departure from right as a pub- 
lic functionary. 

To sciiolarship, in the common acceptation 
of the term, he had no pretensions. Yet, for 
talents as a writer on those subjects to which his 
attention had been directed, he had few equals. 
In letter writing and public addresses he fur- 
nished one of the Ingiiest models in the English 
language. Of all tlie most truly valuable quali- 
ties of style, perspicuity, purity, strength, and 
dignity, he was a perfect master. With an ap- 
titude which characterised him in all things, the 
tone of his writings rose or fell with tlie greater 



LIVE OF WASHINGTON. 21 J 

or less weight and elevation of his subjects. 
Compared with some of his addresses to his 
army, those of any other commander at present 
recollected are barren and feeble. No allusion 
is here niade to the glowing speeches prepared 
for certain favourite chiefs by the historians of 
their campaigns, but to those whicli the leaders 
themselves h ive produced. Yet it may be safely 
asserted, that some of the military addresses of 
W?f3iiington will not suffer in a comparison even 
wirli the haiangue of Galgacus, liom the pen of 
Tacitus, the fmest specimen of lield eloquence 
that antiquity has bequeathed us. 

Analyse the general charactel* of our great 
countryman, and its principal elements will be 
found to be, firmness, dignity, strength, and mo- 
deration, constituting in the aggregate a sublime 
monument of moral grandeur. With less of 
brilliancy than falls to the share of many others, 
it consists of a much greater mass of solid, prac- 
tical, and useful qualities, and is therefore bet- 
ter calculated to produce on society a deep feli- 
citous and enduring effect. 

To attain this moderation his difficulties had 
been great and his struggles arduous. His pas- 
sions having been originally modelled on the same 
scale, and possessed of the same Herculean 
strength, with the powers of his intellect, to 
bring them into perfect subjection and rule had 
cost him the severest conflict of his life. But, 
as the hardest and most refractory bodies as- 
sume, when polished, the highest lustre, the 
calm of his passions, now subdued, was deep 



216 I-iFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and ponderous, like tliat of the ocean, which 
nothing but the force of the tempest can disturb. 

In his private and domestic relations his cha- 
racter excited in all around him veneration and 
love. His virtues, as a man, were conformable 
in lustre to his higher qualities as a first magis- 
trate and a military chief. 

With a person, six feet two inches in stature, 
expanded, muscular, of elegant proportions, and 
unusually graceful in all its movements; a head 
moulded somewhat on the model of the Grecian 
antique; features sufficiently prominent for 
strength or comeliness; a Roman nose, and large 
blue eyes, deeply thoughtful rather than lively: 
with these attributes, the appearance of Wash- 
ington was striking and august. A fine com- 
plexion being superadded, he was accounted, 
when young, one of the handsomest of men. 

But his majesty consisted in the expression of 
his countenance much more than in his comely 
features, bis lofty person, or his dignified de- 
portment. It was the emanation of his great 
spirit through the tenement it occupied. 

Such was Washington ; the champion of free- 
dom, the glory of his country, the founder and 
father of a great empire, the pride of modern 
times, the ornament of tlie human race. 



HENRY. 

Y, governor 
most eloquent orator, took an early and decided 



Patrick Henry, governor of Virginia, and a 



LIFE OF HENRY. 217 

I part hi support of the rights of his country against 

I the tyranny of Great Britain. 

In the year 1 765, he was a member of the as- 
sembly of Virginia, and introduced some. reso- 
lutions, which breathed a spirit of hberty, and 
which were accepted by a small majority, on the 
29th of May. These were the first resolutions 
ot any assembly occasioned by the stamp act. 
One of the resolutions declared, that the general 
assembly had the exclusive right and power to 
Jay taxes and impositions upon the inhabitants of 
the colony. Such was the warmth excited in 
the debate, that Mr. Henry, according to the re- 
lation of Mr. Stedham, after declaiming against 
the arbitrary measures of Great Britain, added, 
C^sar had his Brutus, Charles the First an 

Uliver Cromwell, and George the Third " 

when he was stopped from proceeding farther 
and caUed to order. He was elected in the year 
1774 one of the deputies from Virginia to the 
nrst Congress, and was in this year one of the 
committee which drew up the petition to the 

In May, 1775, after lord Dunmore had con- 
veyed on board a ship a part of the powder from 
the magazine of Williamsburgh, Mr. Henry dis- 
tingmshed himself by assembling the indepen- 
dent companies of Hanover and King William 
counties, and directing them towards Williams- 
burgh, with the avowed design of obtaining 
payment for the powder, or of compelling its 
restitution. The object was effected, for the 
king s receiver general gave a bill for the value 



218 LIFE OF HENHl. 

of the property. The governor immediately 
fortified his palace, and issued a proclamation, 
charging those who had procured the bill with 
rebellious practices. This only occasioned a 
number of county meetings, which applauded the 
conduct of Mr. Henry, and expressed a deter- 
mination to protect him. In August, 1775, when 
a new choice of deputies to Congress was made, 
he was not re-elected, for his services were now 
demanded more exclusively in his own state. 
After the departure of lord Dunmore, he was 
chosen the first governor, in June, 1776, and 
he held this office several succeeding years, 
bending all his exertions to promote the freedom 
and independence of his country. 

In the beginning of the year 1778, an anony- 
mous letter was addressed to him, with a design 
of alienating his affections from the commander 
in chief. He enclosed it to Washington, both to 
evince his friendship, and to put him on his guard. 
In another letter, written a few days afterwards, 
when he had heard of a plan to effect the re- 
moval of Washington, he says to him, " While 
you face the armed enemies of our liberty in the 
field, and, by the favour of God, have been kept 
unhurt, I trust your country will never harbour 
in her bosom the miscreant, who would ruin her 
best supporter; but when arts unworthy honest 
men are used to defame and traduce you, I think 
it not amiss, but a duty to assure you of that 
estimation in which the public hold you.''' 

In June, 1778, he was a member, with other 
illustrious citizensof Virginia, of the convention 



LIFJii OF IIENRV. 219 

which was appointed to consider the constitution 
of the United States; and he exerted all the force 
of his masterly eloquence, day after day, to pre- 
vent its adoption. He contended that changes 
were dangerous to liberty; that the old confedera- 
tion had carried us through the war, and secured 
our independence, and needed only amendment; 
that the proposed government was a consolidated 
government, in which the sovereignty of the 
states would be lost, and all pretensions to rights 
and privileges would be rendered insecure; that 
the want of a bill of rights was an essential de- 
fect; that general warrants should have been 
prohibited; and that to adopt the constitution 
with a view to subsequent amendments was only 
submitting to tyranny in the hope of being 
liberated from it at some future time. He 
therefore offered a resolution, containing a bill 
of rights and amendments for the greater secu- 
rity of liberty and property, to be referred to the 
other states before the ratification of the pro- 
posed form of government. His resolution, 
however, was not adopted. The arguments of 
Pendleton, Randolph, Madison, and Marshall, 
prevailed against tlie eloquence of Henry, and the 
constitution was adopted, though by a small ma- 
jority. Mr. Henry's bill of rights and his amend- 
ments were then accepted, and directed to be 
transmitted to the several states. Some of these 
amendments have been engrafted into the 
federal constitution, on which account, as well 
as on account of the lessoiis of experience, Mr. 



220 XIFE OF HENRY. 

Henry in a few years lost in a degree his repug- 
jiance to it. 

After the resignation of Mr. Randolph, in 
August, 1795, he was nominated by president 
Washington secretary of state, but considera- 
tions of a private nature induced him to decline 
the honourable trust. In November, 1 796, he 
was again elected governor of Virginia, and this 
office also he almost immediately resigned. In 
the beginning of the year 1799, he was appoint- 
ed by president Adams as an envoy to France, 
with Messrs. Ellsworth and Murray. His letter 
in reply to the secretary of state is dated in Char- 
lotte county, April the 16th, and in it he speaks 
of a severe indisposition, to which he was then 
subject, and of his advanced age and increasing 
debility, and adds, " Nothing short of absolute 
necessity could induce me to withhold my little 
aid from an administration, whose abilities, 
patriotism and virtue, deserve the gratitude and 
reverence of all their fellow citizens." Governor 
Davie, of North Carolina, was in consequence 
appointed in his place. He lived but a short 
time after this testimony of the respect in which 
his talents and patriotism were held, for he died 
at Red Hill, in Charlotte county, on the 6th of 
June, 1799. , 

Mr. Henry was a man of eminent talents, of 
ardent attachment to liberty, and of most com- 
manding eloquence. The Virginians boast of 
him as an orator of nature. His general ap- 
pearance and manners were those of a plain 



LIFE OF HENRY. 22 1 

farmer, and in this character he always entered 
on the exordium of an oration. His unassuming 
looks and expressions of humility induced his 
hearers to listen to him, with the same easy 
openness with which they would converse with 
an honest neighbour. After he had thus disarm- 
ed prejudice and pride, and opened a way to the 
heart, the inspiration of his eloquence, when lit- 
tle expected, would invest him with the authori- 
ty of a prophet. With a mind of great powers, 
and a heart of keen sensibility, he would some- 
times rise in the majesty of his genius, and, while 
he filled the audience with admiration, would, 
with almost irresistible influence, bear along the 
passions of others with him. 

In private life, he was as amiable and virtuous 
as he was conspicuous in his public career. In 
a letter to Archibald Blair, esquire, Avritten but 
a few months before his death, after lamenting 
the violence of parties in Virginia, and repro- 
bating French infidehty, and manners, and poli- 
tics, he adds, " I am too old and infirm ever 
again to undertake public concerns. I live much 
retired, amidst a multiplicity of blessings from 
that gracious Ruler of all things, to whom I owe 
unceasing acknowledgments for his unremitted 
goodness to me. — And if I were permitted to 
add to the catalogue one other blessing, it should 
be, that my countrymen should learn wisdom 
and virtue, and in this their day to know the 
things that pertain to their peace/^ 



LIFE OF S. Ali.VMS. 



S. ADAMS. 



Samuel Adams, a most distinguished patriot 
in the American revolution, was born in Boston 
of a respectable family, on tlie 27th day of Sep- 
tember, 1722. He was graduated at Harvard 
College in the year 1740. When he commenced 
Master of Arts in 1743, he proposed the follow- 
ing question for discussion: Whether it be law- 
ful to resist the supreme magistrate, if the com- 
monwealth cannot otherwise be preserved? He 
maintained the affirmative, and thus early show- 
ed his attachment to the liberties of the people. 

Early distinguished by his talents as a writer, 
his first attempts were proofs of his filial piety. 
By his efforts he preserved the estate of his fa- 
ther, which had been attached on account of an 
engagement in the land bank bubble. He was 
known as a political writer during the adminis- 
tration of Shirley, to which he was opposed, as 
he thought the union of so much civil and mili- 
tary power in one man was dangerous. His 
ingenuity, wit and profound argument, are spo- 
ken of with the highest respect by those who 
were cotemporary witli him. At this early pe- 
riod he laid the foundation of public confidence 
and esteem. 

In the year 1765 he was elected a member 
of the general assembly of Massachusetts, in the 
place of Oxenbridge Thatcher, esq. deceased. 
He was soon chosen clerk, and he gradually ac- 



11 FK or S. ADAMSr. 223 

quired influence in the legislature. This was 
an eventful time. But Mr. Adams possessed a 
courage, which no dangei's could shake. He 
w^as undismayed by the prospect, which struck 
terror into the hearts of many. He was a mem- 
ber of the legislature near ten years, and he was 
the soul which animated it to the most important 
resolutions. No man did so much. He pressed 
his measures with ardour, yet he was prudent; 
he knew how to bend the passions of others to 
his purpose. 

When the charter was dissolved, he was 
chosen a member of the provincial convention. 
In the year 1774 he was elected a member of 
the general congress. In this station, in which 
he remained a number of years, he rendered 
the most important services to his country. His 
eloquence was adapted to the times, in which 
he lived. The energy of his language corres- 
ponded with the firmness and vigour of his mind. 
His heart glowed with the feelings of a patriot; 
his eloquence was simple, majestic, and persua- 
sive. He was one of the most efficient members 
of Congress. He possessed keen penetration, 
unshaken fortitude, and permanent decision. 
Gordon speaks of him in 1774, as having for a 
long time whispered to his confidential friends, 
that this country must be independent. In the 
last act of state of the British government in 
Massachusetts, he was proscribed with John Han- 
cock, when a general pardon was offered to all 
who had rebelled. This act was dated June 



284- LIFE OF S. ADAMS. 

12th, 1775, and it teaclies Americans what they 
owe to the denounced patriot. 

In the year 1776 he united with Dr. Franklin, 
J. Adams, J. Hancock, T. Jefferson, and a host 
of worthies, in declaring the United States no 
longer an appendage to a monarchy, but free 
and independent. 

When the constitution of Massachusetts was 
adopted, he was chosen a member of the senate, 
of which body he was elected president. He 
was soon sent to the western counties, to quiet 
a disturbance which was rising, and was suc- 
cessful in his mission. He was a member of the 
convention for examining the constitution of the 
United States. He made objections to several 
of its provisions, but his principal objection was 
to that article which rendered the several states 
amenable to the courts of the nation. He thought 
this reduced them to mere corporations; that 
the sovereignty of each would be dissolved; and 
that a consolidated government, supported by an 
army, would be the consequence. The consti- 
tution was afterwards altered in this point, and 
in most other respects, according to his wishes. 

In the year 1789 he was chosen lieutenant 
governor, and was continued in this oiBce till 
1794, when he was elected governor, as suc- 
cessor to Mr. Hancock. He was annually re- 
placed in tlie chair of the first magistrate of 
Massachusetts till 1797, when his age and infir- 
mities induced him to retire from public hfe. 
He died on the 2d day of October, 1803, in the 
S2d year of his age. 



LIFE OF S. AD.V31S. 3.25 

The leading traits in the character of Mr. 
Adams, were an unconquerable love of liberty, 
integrity, firmness, and decision. Some acts of 
his administration as chief magistrate were cen- 
sured, though all allowed his motives were pure. 
A division in political sentiments at that time 
existed, and it has since increased. When he 
differed from the majority, he acted with great 
independence. At the close of the war, he op- 
posed peace with Great Britain, unless the 
northern states retained their full privileges in 
the fisheries. In 1787 he advised the execution 
of condign punishment, to which the leaders of 
the rebeUion in 1786 had been sentenced. He 
was opposed to the treaty with Great Britain, 
made by Mr. Jay in the year 1794, and he put 
his election to hazard by avowing his dislike of 
it. He was censured for his conduct; but he 
undoubtedly had a right to express his opinion, 
and his situation made it his duty to point out 
to the people what he conceived to be the causes 
of danger. 

Mr. Adams was a man of incorruptible inte- 
grity. Attempts were probably made by the 
British to bribe him. Governor Hutchinson, in 
answer to the inquiry, why Mr. Adams was not 
taken off from his opposition by an office, writes 
to a friend in England, " Such is the obstinacy 
and inflexible disposition of the man, that he 
never can be conciliated by any office or gift 
whatever.^^ 

He was poor. While occupied abroad in the 
most important and responsible public duties. 



226 I.IFE or S. ADAMS. 

the partner of his cares supported the family at 
home by her industry. Though his resources 
were veiy small, yet such was the economy and 
dignity of his house, that those who casually 
visited him, found nothing mean or unbecoming 
his station. His country, to whose interests he 
had devoted his life, permitted him to remain 
poor; but there was not wanting a few friendSj 
who showed him their regard. In this honour- 
able poverty he continued to a very late period ol 
his Hfe; and had not a decent competency fallen 
into his hands by the very afflicting event of the 
death of an only son, he must have depended 
for subsistence upon the kindness of his friends, 
or the charity of the public. 

To a majestic countenance and dignified man- 
ners, there was added a suavity of temper which 
concihated the affection of his acquaintance. 
Some, who disapproved of his political conduct, 
loved and revered him as a neighbour and friend. 
He could readily relax from severer cares and 
studies, to enjoy the pleasures of private conver- 
sation. Though somewhat reserved among 
strangers, yet with his friends he was cheerful 
and companionable, a lover of chaste wit, and 
remarkably fond of anecdote. He faithfully 
discharged the duties arising from the relations 
of social life. His house was the seat of domes- 
tic peace, regularity, and method. 

Mr. Adams was a Christian. His mind was 
early imbued with piety, as well as cultivated by 
science. He early approached the table of the 
Lord Jesus, and the purity of his life witnessed 



l.IFK OF S. ADAMS. 227 

he sincerity of his profession. On the Christian 
iabbath he constantly went to the temple, and 
he morning and evening devotions in his family 
)roved, that his religion attended him in his sea- 
sons of retirement from the world. The last 
production of his pen was in favour of Christian 
ruth. He died in the faith of the gospel. 

He was a sage and a patriot. The indepen- 
lence of the United States of America is per- 
laps to be attributed nmch to his exertions, 
rhough he was called to struggle with adversity, 
16 was never discouraged. He was consistent 
md firm under the cruel neglect of a friend and 
he malignant rancour of an enemy; comforting 
limself in the darkest seasons with reflections 
ipon the wisdom and goodness of God. 

His writings are to be found only in the co- 
umns of a newspaper or a pamphlet. In the 
rear 1790, a few letters passed between him and 
Mr. John Adams, then vice president of the 
United States, in which the principles of govern- 
nent are discussed, and there appears to have 
existed some difference of sentiment between 
:hose eminent patriots and statesmen, who had 
;oiled together through the revolution. This 
correspondence was published in the year 1800. 
^J^ oration, which Mr Adams delivered at the 
state House in Philadelphia, on the 1st of Au- 
gust, 1776, was published. The object is to 
support American independence, the declaration 
[)f which by Congress had been made a short 
time before. He opposes kingly government 
and hereditary succession with warmth and 



228 LIFE OF HAMILTajf. 

energy. Not long before his death he addressed 
a letter to Thomas Paine, expressing his disap- 
probation of that unbeliever's attempts to injure 
the cause of Christianity. 



HAMILTON. 



Alexander Hamilton, a native of St. Croix, 
was born in the year 1757. His father was the 
younger son of an Enghsh family, and his mo- 
ther a native of the United States — at that time 
British colonies. At the age of sixteen he ac- 
companied his mother to New York, and en- 
tered as a student of Columbia College, in which 
he continued about three years. While a mem- 
ber of this institution, the first buddings of his in- 
tellect gave presages of his future eminence. 
The contest with Great Britain called forth the 
first talents on each side, and his juvenile pen 
asserted the claims of the colonies against very 
respectable writers. His productions exhibited 
such evidence of intellect and wisdom, that they 
were attributed to the pen of Mr. Jay; and when 
the truth was discovered, America saw with as- 
tonishment a lad of seventeen in the list of her 
able advocates. 

The first sound of battle awakened the mar- 
tial spirit of the stripling, and at the age of eigh- 
teen he entered the American army with the 
rank of captain of artillery. As a soldier, he soon 
concihated the affection of his brethren in arms, 
and it was not long before he attracted the no- 



LIFE OF HAMILTON. 229 

tice of the commander in chief, who in 1777 se- 
lected him as an aid-de-camp, which promoted 
him to the rank of heutenant colonel. His sound 
understanding, comprehensive views, applica- 
tion and promptitude, soon gained him the en- 
tire contidence of his patron. In such a school, 
it was impossible that his genius should not be 
nourished. By intercourse with Washington, 
by surveying his plans, observing his consum- 
mate prudence, and by a minute inspection of 
the springs of national operations, he became fit- 
ted for command. 

Throughout the campaign, which terminated 
in the capture of lord Cornwallis, colonel Ha- 
milton commanded a battalion of light infantry. 
At the siege of Yorktown, in the year 1781, 
when the second parallel was opened, two re- 
doubts which flanked it, and were advanced 
three hundred yards in front of the British works, 
very much annoyed the men in the trenches. It 
was resolved to possess them, and to awaken a 
spirit of emulation, the reduction of the one was 
entrusted to the Americans, and that of the other 
to the French. The detachment of the Ameri- 
cans was commanded by the marquis de la Fay- 
*ette, and colonel Hamilton, at his own request, 
led tlie advanced corps, consisting of two batta- 
lions. Towards the close of the day, on the l4th 
of October, the troops rushed to the charge with- 
out firing a single gun. The works were as- 
saulted with irresistible impetuosity, and carried 
with but little loss. Eight of the enemy fell in 
the action; but notwithstanding the irritation 
u 



2S0 LIFE OF HAMILTON. 

lately produced by an infamous slaughter in Fort 
Griswold, not a man was killed who ceased to 
resist. In justice to the American soldiery it 
must be added, that the enterprise committed to 
them on this occasion, was conducted in the 
finest style, and completed first by several mi- 
nutes. 

Soon after the capture of CornwaUis, Hamil- 
ton sheathed his sword, and being incumbered 
with a family, and destitute of funds, entered, 
after a brief course of study, on the profession 
of the law. But his private pursuits could not 
detach him from regard to the public welfare. 
The violence which was meditated against the 
property and persons of all who remained in the 
city of New York while the British army was in 
possession of that place, called forth his gener- 
ous exertions, and by the aid of governor Clin- 
ton, the faithless and revengeful scheme was de- 
feated. 

In the year 1786, colonel Hamilton was cho- 
sen a member of the legislature of New York, 
and, during this session, he was elected one of 
the three representatives from that state to the 
general convention at Philadelphia, whose deli- 
berations resulted in the constitution of our 
country. The constitution did not indeed com- 
pletely meet his wishes. He was afraid it did 
not contain sufficient means of strength for its 
own preservation, and that in consequence we 
should share the fate of many other republics, 
and pass through anarchy to despotism. He was 
in favour of a more permanent executive and 



LIFE OF HAMILTON. -'1 

senate. He wished for a strong government, 
wliich would not be shaken by the conilict of 
different interests through an extensive territory, 
and which sliould be adequate to all the fRHTin^ 
of national exigency. He was apprehensive, 
that the increased wealth and population of the 
states would lead to encroachments on the union, 
and he anticipated the day, when the general 
government, unable to support itself, would fall. 
These were his views and feelings, and he freely 
expressed them. But the patriotism of Hamil- 
ton was not of that kind which yields every 
thing because it cannot accomplish all that it de- 
sires. Believing the constitution to be incompa- 
rably superior to the old confederation, he ex- 
erted all his talents in its support, though it did 
not rise to his conception of a perfect system. 

When the government was organized in 1 789, 
he was appointed to the office of secretary of the 
treasury. New demands were now made upon 
his talents. But his mind was not formed to be 
intimidated or vanquished. It rose in greatness 
in proportion to the difficulties it had to encoun- 
ter. In his reports he proposed plans for fund- 
ing the debt of the union, and for assuming the 
debts of the respective states; for establishing a 
bank and mint, and for procuring a revenue. 
He wished to redeem the reputation of his coun- 
try by satisfying her creditors, and to combine 
with the government such a monied interest as 
might facilitate its operations. But while he 
opened sources of wealth to thousands by estab- 
lishing public credit;, and thus restoring the pub- 



232 tlFE OF HAMILTON. 

lie paper to its original value, he did not enrich 
himself; he did not take advantage of his situa- 
tion, nor improve tl3e opportunity he enjoyed, 
and which, without peculation or any other act 
that would have amounted to a breach of public 
trust, might have rendered him as distinguished 
lor wealth as he was for the higher riches of his 
mind. He was exquisitely delicate in relation 
to his official character, being determined if 
possible to prevent the impeachment of his mo- 
tives, and preserve his integrity and good name 
unimpaired. 

"In his system of finance," says Mr. Dela- 
plaine, " there was nothing unnatiu'al, and 
therefore nothing forced. So perfect were the 
correspondence and adjustment between the 
means, the subject, and the end, that all things 
he aimed at sprang up under his touch, as if na- 
ture herself had called them into existence. 
They rose and flourished like the productions of 
a fertile soil, when awakened by the influence 
of the vernal sun. From the most humble and 
depressed condition, he raised public credit to 
an elevation altogether unprecedented in the 
history of the country, and acquired for him- 
self, both at home and abroad, the reputation 
of the greatest financier of the age." 

After the commencement of hostilities be- 
tween England and France, in 1793, an attempt 
was made by the minister of the latter to involve 
the United States as a party in the war. Pre- 
sident Washington, as wefl to hold in check the 
spirit of lawless adventure, by declaring the ex- 



LIFE OF HAMIITOX. 233 

isting state of things, as to make known the po- 
hcy which he meant permanently to pursue, is- 
sued his proclamation of neutrality. In the ad- 
visement of that measure, Hamilton was known 
to have taken a decided and responsible part. 
His advice was followed in relation to the insur- 
rection in the western parts of Pennsylvania, in 
the year 1794, and such a detachment was sent 
out, that it was suppressed without the effusion 
of blood. He remained but a short time after- 
wards in office. As his property had been 
wasted in the public service, the care of a rising 
family made it his duty to retire, that by re- 
newed exertions in his profession he might pro- 
vide for tlieir support. He accordingly resigned 
his office on the last of January, 1795, and was 
succeeded by Mr. Wolcott. 

In consequence of the injuries and indignities 
which our government sustained from France, a 
provisional army was raised in the year 1798 for 
defensive operations. 
- By Mr. Adams, then president of the United 
States, the command of this army was proffered 
to Washington, who suspended his acceptance 
of it on condition, that colonel Hamilton, with 
the title of inspector general, should be second 
in command. Tills arrangement was accord- 
ijigly niade. 

On the death of Washington in 1799, he suc- 
ceeded of course to the command in chief of the 
armies of America. But, for some cause, of 
which the public is yet to be informed, the rank 
of heutenant general, now justly his due, ac- 
v 2 



234 LIFE OF HAMILTON. 

cording to tlie principle and usages of military 
promotion, was never conferred on liim. 

After the adjustment of our differences with 
the French repubUc, and the discharge of the 
army, general Hamilton returned again to his 
profession in the city of New York. In this 
place he passed the remainder of his days. 

In June, 1804, general Hamilton received 
from colonel Burr a note, requiring, in language 
that was deemed offensive, an acknowledgment 
or a disavowal, touching certain expressions, 
which he was unable to make. This led to a 
correspondence, which, after every honourable 
effort by the former to prevent extremities, ter- 
minated in a challenge on the part of the latter. 
A duel was the consequence. After the close 
of the circuit court, the parties met at Hoboken, 
on the New Jersey shore, on the morning of 
the llthof July, 1801, and general Hamilton 
fell on the very spot where his son a few years 
before had fallen, in obedience to the same un- 
lawful and barbarous practice. He was carried 
into the city, and being desirous of receiving the 
sacrament of the Lord's Supper, he immedi- 
ately sent for the Rev. Dr. Mason. As the prin- 
ciples of his church prohibited him from admi- 
nistering the ordinance in private, this minister 
of the gospel informed general Hamilton, that 
the sacrament was an exhibition and pledge of 
the mercies which the Son of God has pur- 
chased, and that the absence of the sign did not 
exclude from the mercies signified, which were 
accessible to him by faith in their gracious \u- 



LIFE OF HAMILTON. 255 

thor. lie replied, "I am aware of that. It is 
only as a sign that I wanted it." In the conver- 
sation which ensued, he disavowed all intention 
of taking the life of colonel Burr, and declared 
his abhorrence of the whole transaction. When 
the sin, of which he had been guilty, was inti- 
mated to him, he assented with strong emotion^ 
and when the infinite merit of the Redeemer, as 
the propitiation for sin, the sole ground of our 
acceptance with God was suggested, he said 
with emphasis, " I have a tender reliance on the 
mercy of the Almighty through the merits of the 
Lord Jesus Christ." The Rev. Bishop Moore 
was afterwards sent for, and after making suit- 
able inquiries of the penitence and faith of gene- 
ral Hamilton, and receiving his assurance that 
he would never again, if restored to health, be 
engaged in a similar transaction, but would em- 
ploy all his inlluence in society to discounte- 
nance the barbarous custom, administered to 
him the communion. After this his mind was 
composed. He expired about two o'clock P. M. 
of the following day, in the forty-seventh year of 
his age. For a time political distinctions were 
swallowed up in his loss, and his death was la- 
mentet! as a national calamity. 

Mr. Delaplaine says, " by universal acknow- 
ledgment, Alexander Hamilton ivas one of the 
greatest men not only of the country, but of the 
age in which he lived. Nor were his virtues in- 
ferior to his intellectual endowments. Whether 
morally or physically considered, his mind was 
alike gigantic and illustrious." 



2S€ IIFK OF HAMILTOIV. 

" Were we even to enlarge the field of our 
research^ embracing within its compass every 
country and age which the lights of history per- 
mit us to examine, we should find but few indi- 
viduals that could rival him in greatness. Such 
characters — rari nantes in gurgite vasto — are 
but thinly scattered along the spacious stream of 
human existence. Were we allowed the use of 
a brighter, and we, therefore, think a more suit- 
able figure, we might say, that, like stars of pri- 
mary magnitude, they ghtter not in constella- 
tions, but in distinct and widely separated spheres. 
In every department of nature it is small bodies 
alone that are crowded together." And again: 
" Within the sphere of our own knowledge, or 
in the records of society, it is usual to find indi- 
viduals who are highly distinguished in particu- 
lar walks — in the forum, the senate, the cabinet, 
or the field — but a single character, pre-eminent 
in them all, constitutes a prodigy of human great- 
ness. Yet such a character was the personage 
we are considering. He combined within him- 
self qualities that would have communicated lus- 
tre to many. At the bar, his ability and elo- 
quence were at once the delight and astonish- 
nient of his countr}- : as a statesman, his powers 
Avere transcendent and his resources inexhausti- 
ble; as a financier, he was acknowledged to be 
without a rival; in his talent for war, he was 
believed to be inferior to Washington alone. To 
those we may add, that in his qualifications as a . 
writer he was eminently great. Endowments 
so brilliant, with attainments so wide, multifa- 



LIFE OF HAMILTON. 237 

rious and lofty, have but rarely fallen to the por- 
tion of a mortal/' 

General Hamilton possessed many friends, and 
he was greatly endeared to them, for he was ten- 
der, gentle, and benevolent. While he was great 
in the eyes of the world, familiarity with him only 
increased the regard in which he was held. 

In relation to bis political designs, the most 
contradictory opinions were entertained. While 
one party believed his object to be the preserva- 
tion of the present constitution, the other party' 
imputed to him the intention of subverting it; 
his friends regarded him as an impartial states- 
man, while his enemies perceived in his conduct 
only hostility to France and attachment to her 
rival. Whatever may be the decision with re- 
gard to the correctness of his principles, his pre- 
ference of his country's interest to his own can- 
not be questioned by those who are acquainted 
with his character. He took no measure to 
secure a transient popularity; but like every true 
friend to his country, was willing to rest his re- 
putation upon the integrity of his conduct So 
far was he from flattering the people, that he 
more than once dared to throw himself into the 
torrent, that he might present some obstruction 
to its course. He was an honest politician; and 
his frankness has been commended even by those 
who opposed him in his public measures. His 
views of the necessity of a firm general govern- 
ment, rendered him a decided fri<md of the union 
of the American states. His feelings and lan- 
guage were indignant towards every thing, which 



LIFE OF HAMILTON. 



pointed at its dissolution. His hostility to every 
influence, which leaned toward the project, was 
stern and steady, and in every shape it encoun- 
tered his reprobation. No man, of those who 
were not unfriendly to the late administration, 
possessed so wide and commanding an influence; 
and he seems not to have been ignorant of the ele- 
vated height on which he stood. In assigning the 
reasons for accepting the challenge of colonel 
Burr, while he seems to intimate his apprehen- 
sions, that the debility of the general govern- 
ment would be followed by convulsions, he also 
alludes to the demand, which in such an event, 
might be made upon his military talents. His 
words are, " The ability to be in future useful, 
whether in resisting miscliief or effecting good, 
in those crises of our public affairs, which seem 
likely to happen, would probably be inseparable 
from a conformity with public prejudice in this 
particular." 

With all his pre-eminence of talents, and 
amiable as he was in private life, general Hamil- 
ton is yet a melancholy proof of the influence 
which intercourse with a depraved world has in 
perverting the judgment. In principle he was 
opposed to the practice of duelling, his conscience 
was not hardened, and he was not indifferent to 
the welfare of his wife and cliildren; but no con-' 
sideration was strong enough to prevent him from 
exposing his life in single combat. His own 
views of usefulness were followed in contrariety 
to the injunctions of his Maker and his Judge. 
He had been for some time convinced of the 



LIFE OK IIAMILTOS. 239 

truth of Christianity, and it was his intention, 
if his life had been spared, to have written a 
woik upon its evidences. 

His person is thus described by Mr. Dela- 
plaine. " Although in person below the middle 
stature, and somewhat deficient in elegance of 
figure, general Hamilton possessed a very strik- 
ing and manly appearance. By the most super- 
ficial observer he could never be regarded as a 
common individual. His head, which was large, 
was formed on the finest model, resembling 
somewhat the Grecian antique. His forehead 
was spacious and elevated, his nose projecting, 
but inclining to the aquihne, his eyes grey, keen 
at all times, and, when animated by debate, in- 
tolerably piercing, and his mouth and chin well 
proportioned and handsome. These two latter, 
although not his strongest, were his most pleas- 
ing features; yet the form of his mouth was ex- 
pressive of eloquence — more especially of per- 
suasion. He was remarkable for a deep depres- 
sion between his nose and forehead, and a con- 
traction of his brows, which gave to the upper 
part of his countenance an air of sternness. The 
lower part was the emblem of mildness and be- 
nignity. 

In the year 1 784, he pubhshed letters under the 
signature of Phocion, by which the minds of the 
people were very much informed as to the moral 
obligations arising out of the conclusion of the 
treaty of peace. The Federalist, a series of es- 
says, which appeared in the public papers in the 



240 LIFE or HAMI1.T0X. 

interval between the publication and the adop- 
tion of the constitution of the United States, and 
which was designed to elucidate and support its 
principles, was written by him in conjunction 
witli Mr. Jay and Mr. Madison. He wrote the 
whole work, except Nos. 2, 3, 4, 5, and 54, 
which were written by Mr. Jay; Nos. 10, 14, 
and 37 to 48 inclusive, by Mr. Madison; and 
Nos. 18, 19, and 20, which he and Mr. Madi- 
son wrote conjointly. This work, which had a 
powerful influence in procuring the adoption of 
the constitution, has since been published in two 
volumes, and is held in the highest estimation. 
His official reports to Congress, while secretary 
of the treasury, are very long, and display great 
powers of mind. They are among t!ie most 
able and instructive papers on political economy 
that have ever appeared. In 1793 he published 
the essays of Pacificus, which were highly influ- 
ential in reconcihng to public sentiment, the 
president's proclamation of neutrahty, and in 
bestowing on it that popularity which it ulti- 
mately attained. To direct and confirm his fel- 
low citizens in the course they should pursue, 
with regard to the conduct of the French repub- 
lic towards the United States, he published in 
1798, with conclusive effect, under the signature 
of Titus Manlius, a series of essays denominated 
" The Stand." 



LIFK OF WYTUJi. 241 



WYTHE. 

George Wythe, chancellor of Virginia, and 
a distinguished friend of his country, was born in 
the county of Elizabeth City, in the year 1726. 
His father was a respectable farmer, and his 
mother was a woman of uncommon knowledge 
and strength of mind. She taught the Latin 
tongue, with which she was intimately ac- 
quainted, and which she spoke fluently, to her 
son; but his education was in other respects 
very much neglected. At school he learned 
only to read and write, and to apply the five first 
rules of arithmetic. His parents having died 
before he attained the age of twenty-one years, 
like many unthinking youths he commenced a 
career of dissipation and intemperance, and did 
not disengage himself from it before he reached 
the age of thirty. He then bitterly lamented the 
loss of those nine years of his life, and of the 
learning, which durmg that period he might have 
acquired. But never did any man moie ef- 
fectually redeem his time. From the moment 
when he resolved on reformation, he devoted 
himself most intensely to his studies. Without 
the assistance of any instructor, he acquired an 
accurate knowledge of the Greek, and he read 
(he best authors in that as well as in the Latin 
language. He made himself also a profound 
lawyer, becoming perfectly versed in the civil 
and common law, and in the statutes of Great 
Britain and Virginia. He was also a skilful 



g42 JL1>'JK OF V, VTHE. 

mathematician, and was well acquainted with 
moral and natural philosophy. The wild and 
thoughtless youth was now converted into a se- 
date and prudent man, delighting entirely in li- 
terary pursuits. At this period he acquired that 
attachment to the Christian religion which, 
though his faith was afterwards shaken by the 
difficulties suggested by sceptical writers, never 
altogether forsook him, and towards the close of 
his hfe was renovated and firmly established. 
Though he never connected himself with any 
sect of Christians, yet for many years he con- 
stantly attended church, and the Bible was his 
favourite book. 

Having obtained a license to practise law, he 
took his station at the bar of the old general 
court with many other great men, whose merit 
has been the boast of Virginia. Among Xhefh 
he was conspicuous not for his eloquence or in- 
genuity in maintaining a bad cause, but for his 
sound sense and learning, and rigid attachment 
to justice. He never undertook the support of 
a cause which he knew to be bad, or which did 
not appear to be just and honourable. He was 
even known, when he doubted the statement of 
his client, to insist upon his making an affidavit 
to its truth; and in every instance, where it was 
in his power, he examined the witnesses as to 
the facts intended to be proved, before he 
brought the suit, or agreed to defend it. 

When the time arrived, which Heaven had 
destined for the separation of the wide, confe- 
derated republic of America from the dominion 



LIFE OF WYTHE. 243 

of Great Britain, Mr. Wythe was one of the in- 
struments in the hand of Providence for accom- 
phshing that great work. He took a decided 
part in the very first movements of opposition. 
Not content merely to fall in with the wishes of 
his fellow citizens, he assisted in persuading 
them not to submit to British tyranny. With a 
prophetic mind he looked forward to the event 
of an approaching war, and resolutely prepared 
to encounter all its evils rather than to resign 
his attachment to liberty. With his pupil and 
friend, Thomas Jefferson, he roused the- people 
to resistance. As the controversy grew warm, 
his zeal became proportionally fervent. He 
joined a corps of volunteers, accustomed him- 
self to military discipline, and was ready to 
march at the call of his country. But that coun- 
tiy, to whose interests he was so sincerely at- 
tached, had other duties of more importance 
for him to perform. It was his destiny to obtain 
distinction as a statesman, legislator, and judge, 
and not as a warrior. Before the war commen- 
ced he was elected a member of the Virginia as- 
sembly. After having been for some time spea- 
ker of the house of burgesses, he was sent by 
the members of that body as one of their dele- 
gates to the Congress, which assembled on the 
18th of May, 1775, and did not separate until 
it had declared the independence of America. 
In that most enlightened and patriotic assembly 
he possessed no small share of influence. He 
was one of those who signed the memorable de- 
claration, by which the heroic legislators of this 



244 LIFE OF AVYTHE. 

country pledged " their lives, their fortunes, and 
their sacred honour," to maintain and defend its 
violated rights. 

From the commencement of the year 1777, 
to the middle of 1779, Mr. Wythe was engaged 
with Jefferson and Pendleton in making a gene- 
ral revisal of the laws of Virginia, to be laid be- 
fore the assembly of that state. The industry 
and zeal of those gentlemen prepared one hun- 
dred and twenty-six bills, from which are de- 
rived all the most liberal features of the existing 
laws of the commonwealth. And it is to the 
enlightened mind of Wythe, that Virginia owes 
several important and beneficial changes in her 
code. 

After finishing the task of new modelling the 
laws, he was employed to carry them into effect 
according to their true intent and spirit, by be- 
ing placed in the difficult office of judge of a 
court of equity. He was appointed one of the 
three judges of the high court of chancery, and 
afterwards sole chancellor of Virginia, in which 
station he continued until the day of his death, 
during a period of more than twenty years. His 
extraordinary disintei'estedness and patriotism 
were now most conspicuously, displayed. Al- 
though the salary allowed him by the common- 
wealth was extremely scanty, yet he contentedly 
lived upon it even in the expensive city of Rich- 
mond, and devoted his whole time to the service 
of his country. With that contempt of wealth, 
which so remarkably distinguished him from 
other men, he made a present of one half of his 



IIFE OF WYTHE. 24.1 

land in Elizabeth City to his nephew, and the 
purchase money of the remainder, which he 
sold, was not paid him for many years. While 
he resided in Williamsburgh, he accepted the 
professorship of law in the college of William 
and Mary, but resigned it when his duties as 
chancellor required his removal to Richmond. 
His resources were therefore small, yet with 
his liberal and charitable disposition he conti- 
nued, by means of that little, to do much good, 
and always to preserve his independence. This 
he accomplished by temperance and economy. 

He was a member of the Virginia convention, 
which in June, 1788, considered the proposed 
constitution of the United States. During the 
debates he acted for the most part as chairman. 
Being convinced that the confederation was de- 
fective in the energy necessary to preserve the 
union and liberty of America, this venerable pa- 
triot, then beginning to bow under the weight 
of years, rose in the convention, and exerted 
his voice, almost too feeble to be heard, in con- 
tending for a system, on the acceptance of 
which he conceived the happiness of his coun- 
try to depend. He was ever attached to the 
constitution, on account of the principles of 
freedom and justice which it contained; and in 
every change of affairs he was steady in support- 
ing the rights of man. His political opinions 
were always firmly repr-^^Jcan. Though in 
1798 and 1799, he wp^ opposed to the measures 
which were adopted in the administration of pre- 
sident Adams, and reprobated the alien and se- 
X 2 



246^ LIFE OF WYTHE. 

dition laws, and the raising of the army: yet he 
never yielded a moment to the rancour of party 
spirit, nor permitted the difference of opinion to 
interfere in his private friendships. He pre- 
sided twice successively in the college of elec- 
tors in Virginia, and twice voted for a president, 
whose political principles coincided with his own. 
After a short but very excruciating sickness, he 
died on the 8th of June, 1806, in the eighty- 
first year of his age. It was supposed that he 
was poisoned, but the person suspected was ac- 
quitted by a jury of his countrymen. By his last 
will and testament, he bequeathed his valuable 
library and philosophical apparatus to his friend, 
Mr. Jefferson, and distributed the remainder of 
his little property among the grand children of 
his sister, and the slaves, whom he had set free. 
He thus wished to liberate the blacks not only 
from slavery, but from the temptations to vice. 
He even condescended to impart to them in- 
struction; and he personally taught the Greek 
language to a little negro boy, who died a few 
days before his preceptor. 

Chancellor Wythe was indeed an extraordi- 
nary man. With all his great qualities he pos- 
sessed a soul replete with benevolence, and his 
private life is full of anecdotes, which prove, 
that it is seldom that a kinder and warmer heart 
throbs in the breast of a human being. He was 
of a social and affectionate disposition. From 
the time when he was emaocipated from the fol- 
lies of youth, he sustained an unspotted reputa- 
tion. His integrity was never even suspected. 



LIFE OF WYTHE. 24; 

Wliile he practised at the bar, when offers ot 
an extraordinary but well merited compensation 
were made to him by cHents, whose causes he 
had gained, he would say, that the labourer was 
indeed worthy of his hire, but the lawful fee 
was all he had a right to demand, and as to pre- 
sents, he did not want and would not accept 
them from any man. This grandeur of mind he 
uniformly preserved to the end of his life. His 
manner of living was plain and abstemious. He 
found the means of suppressing the desire of 
wealth by limiting the number of his wants. An 
ardent desire to promote the happiness of his 
fellow men, by supporting the cause of justice, 
and maintaining and establishing their rights, 
appears to have been his ruling passion. 

As a judge, he was remarkable for his rigid 
impartiality and sincere attachment to the prin- 
ciples of equity, for his vast and various learn- 
ing, and for his strict and unwearied attention 
to business. Superior to popular prejudice and 
every corrupting influence, nothing could induce 
him to swerve from truth and right. In his de- 
cisions he seemed to be a pure intelligence, un- 
touched by human passions, and settling the dis- 
putes of men according to the dictates of eternal 
and immutable justice. Other judges have sur- 
passed him in genius, and a certain facility in 
despatching causes, but while the vigour of his 
faculties remained unimpaired, he was seldom 
surpassed in learning, industry, and judgment. 

From a man, intrusted with such high con- 
cerns, and whose time was occupied by so many 



248 LIFE OF AMES. 

difficult and perplexing avocations, it could 
scarcely have been expected that he should 
have employed a part of it in the toilsome and 
generally unpleasant task of the education of 
youth. Yet even to this he was prompted by 
his genuine patriotism and philanthropy, which 
induced him for many years to take delight in 
educating such young persons as showed an in- 
clination for improvement. Harassed as he 
was with business, and enveloped with papers 
belonging to intricate suits in chancery, he yet 
found time to keep a private school for the in- 
struction of a few scholars, always with very 
little compensation, and often demanding none. 
Several hving ornaments of their country re- 
ceived their greatest lights from his sublime ex- 
ample and instruction. Such was the upright 
and venerable Wythe. 



AMES. 



Fisher Ames. On the illustrious subject ot 
the present article, we feel most sensibly how 
difficult it is to think without emotion, or to 
speak with that coolness and self-control, that 
temperance and impartiality, that become the 
biographer. If, however, on any point of history, 
it be admissible to indulge in the language of 
sensibility, it is when attempting to portray the 
virtues and talents, the dispositions and achieve- 
ments, of so excellent, so amiable, and so distin- 
guished an individual. He was one of those 



LITE OF AMES. 249 

extraordinary characters, that, at long intervals, 
a beneficent Providence calls into existence, to 
instruct, delight, and astonish mankind. Had 
he been a citizen of Greece, when in the zenith 
of her glory, or of Rome, during the period of 
her fairest renown, he would have been pre- 
eminent in the ranks of statesmen and legisla- 
tors, patriots and orators. In modern times, 
few men, devoted exclusively to civil pursuits, 
have moved in a sphere more elevated and ra- 
diant. From the commencement till near the 
close of his public career, which, alas! was al- 
most as transient as it was brilliant, although 
associated with the ablest men of the nation, his 
wisdom in council, and his eloquence in debate, 
imposed on him the arduous and responsible 
office of a leader, in many of the most intricate 
concerns of legislation. As long as the state of 
his health enabled him to persevere in the exer- 
tions necessary for maintaining the station he 
had acquired, his ascendency in the House of 
Representatives of the United States, was as 
sensibly felt and as generally acknowledged, as 
that of Fox or Pitt, Burke or even Chatham, 
in the British parliament. 

When we contemplate him surrounded by all 
the attributes of character, that justly appertained 
to him; a mind rich in the most splendid endow- 
ments of nature, heightened by whatever culti- 
vation could bestow; a heart pregnant with 
every moral virtue, and glowing with the purest 
and noblest sentiments; a social temperament, 
consisting of every quality calculated to concili- 



250 IIFE OF AMKS. 

ate, delight, and endear; and a zeal for the wel- 
fare of his country, and the happiness of his fel- 
low citizens, which burned with a vestal purity 
and vigilance, and was too ardent for the strength 
of his finely organized and sensitive frame;* — 
when we view him thus elevated by his native 
powers, and clothed in excellencies so numerous 
and resplendent, we can with difficulty set 
bounds to our admiration and esteem, or pre- 
vent our affection from rising to enthusiasm. It 
is when engaged in the contemplation of such a 
character that we feel most inclined to glory in 
our birthright, and experience the liveliest sense 
of gratitude for the privilege conferred on us, of 
belonging to an order of beings so exalted. 

When society is deprived by death of an indi- 
vidual so eminent, it devolves as a duty on those 
who survive him, if to emulate his greatness be 
too hopeless an undertaking, at least to cherish 
his memory, and practise his virtues; and, by 
recording his character in the most public and 
permanent form, to extend and perpetuate his 
example, for the benefit of mankind. With a 
view to the promotion of objects like these, as 
well as in grateful commemoration of the me- 
rits of the deceased, we have ventured to pre- 
pare a biographical notice of the illustrious per- 
sonage under our consideration. 

* Mr. Ames, as his writings evince, regarded with more 
than usual apprehension and horror, the strides of France 
towards universal empire. It" his death was not accele- 
rated, his health was at least materially impaired, by this 
deep and constant solicitude about the liberties of lii^ 
country. 



l.IFK OF AMES. 251 

Fisher Ames was the youngest of a family, 
(consisting of five children. He was born on the 
9th of April, 1758, in the old parish of Dedham, 
a pleasant country town, situated in the county 
of Norfolk, about nine miles from the city of 
Boston. Descended from one of the oldest fa- 
mihes in the state of Massachusetts, he was, in 
the strictest sense of the word, an American. 
In this respect, his blood was as free from foreign 
admixture, as his spirit was from foreign par- 
tialities. Although by far the most able and emi- 
nent of his line, he was not the only one of them 
that aspired to and attained distinction in letters. 
His father, a man of uncommon wit, acuteness, 
and worth, was a practitioner of medicine, high 
in reputation. In addition to the extent of his 
professional attainments, he was well versed in 
natural philosophy, astronomy, and mathematics. 
He died in July, 1764, when the subject of this 
article had but little more than completed the 
sixth year of his age. He also numbered in the 
line of his ancestry, the Rev. William Ames, 
who flourished about the beginning of the seven- 
teenth century, and was the author of a very 
valuable w^ork, denominated Medulla Theologice, 
and several smaller tracts in polemical divinity. 
That celebrated English divine, unable to brook 
the spirit of intolerance by which he was assailed, 
under the authority of Christ's College in Cam- 
bridge, emigrated to the states of Friesland, 
where he was afterwards chosen a professor in 
their university. He was an active member in 
the synod of Dort, in the year 1618. That he 



252 lilFE OF AMES. 

might be still farther removed from that most 
galling of tyrannies, which interferes with the 
rights of conscience and the forms of devotion, 
he made definitive arrangements for emigrating 
to New Eingland, but was prevented by death, in 
the month of November, 1633. We mention 
these facts to show, that the family of Ames had 
been long distinguished by their love of freedom. 

On the death of young Ames's father, his mo- 
ther was left with a family, in straitened circum- 
stances, to struggle with the difficulties incident 
to her situation. As if inspired, however, with 
a presentiment of the future destinies of her son, 
she determined to bestow on him a liberal edu- 
cation. She accomplished her task, lived to 
rejoice in his prosperity and eminence, to wit- 
ness the manifestations of his filial piety, and to 
weep, alas! over his untimely grave. 

In a notice like the present, much that is im- 
portant must be necessarily omitted. It is scarce- 
ly allowable, therefore, to exhibit even a tran- 
sient view of the scintillations of genius in the 
morning of life, when they are so completely 
lost in the lustre of its meridian. Were such 
a step admissible, it would be easy to show the 
early and rapid development of the faculties of 
Mr. Ames — that he surpassed, in vigour and acti- 
vity of intellect, the companions of his childhood, 
no less than the associates of his riper years. 

At the age of six, he commenced the study of 
the Latin tongue. Here the incompetency of 
teachers, and the frequent interruptions he ex- 
perienced in his scholastic pursuits, were serious 



LIFE OF AMES. "ZSC^ 

barriers in the way of his improvement. The en- 
ergy of his own mind, however, aided by a degree 
of industry exemplary for his years, supphed the 
want of every thing else, and hurried him along 
in the road to knowledge. In the spring of 1770, 
when his twelfth year was but little more than 
completed, he was received as a student into 
Harvard University. In his examination prepa- 
ratory to his advancement he acquitted himself 
with great reputation, and impressed his teachers 
with respect for his talents. 

During his continuance in that institution he 
was exemplary, young as he was, for his atten- 
tion to study, his irreproachable morals, his con- 
ciliating manners, the mildness of his disposition, 
and the general correctness and decorum of his 
deportment. Although sportive and gay in the 
hours of relaxation, he was neither a leader nor 
an abettor of serious mischief; nor did he ever 
consort with the dissipated or the vicious. He 
was familiar only with those who were endea- 
vouring to become familiar with letters; and his 
attachments were to such alone as were them- 
selves attached to honourable pursuits. 

Although too young at this period to vie with 
the first scholars of his class in the higher and 
more abstruse branches of science, he was, not- 
withstanding, in certain exercises, without a rival. 
This was particularly the case in rehUon to the 
art of practical oratory. In speaking and recit- 
ing generally, but more especially in impassion- 
ed declamation, he acquired and maintained an 
acknowledged pre-eminence. The oratory of 

y 



I 

254 LIFE OF AMES. 

Mr. Ames continued to be cherished in Harvard 
with fond recollection, long after it had ceased 
to be heard within her walls. The invaluable 
habits which he now contracted, and the excel- 
lent character which he established as a colle- 
gian, had a powerful influence on his future des- 
tinies. So important is it for youth to enter 
early on the paths of sobriety, order, and virtue; 
and so true is it, that the blossoms of a college 
life but rarely fail to be succeeded in age by 
corresponding fruit. While engaged in his aca- 
demical pursuits, the youth of Ames presented, 
morally and intellectually, a miniature of his 
manhood; exhibiting on all occasions the germ 
of that knowledge which was afterwards to en- 
lighten and direct his fellow citizens, and the 
early flashes of that eloquence that was destined 
to electrify the council chamber of the nation. 

In 1774, when but a few months turned of 
his sixteenth year, he obtained the degree of 
Bachelor of Arts. As a pui'suit for life, both his 
own inclination and the atlvice of his friends in- 
duced him to direct his attention to the bar. But 
his youth, the very limited income of his mother, 
which rendered it expedient lor him to provide 
means for his own subsistence, and the trouble- 
some times that were now commencing, pre- 
vented him from entering immediately on his 
professional duties. 

Some of the most distinguished men in New 
England have been engaged for a time, after the 
completion of their collegiate education, in the 
instruction of vouth. To this honourable and 



LIFE OF AMES. ^55 

useful employment, Mr. Ames appears to have 
devoted several years of his life. But while 
communicating knowledge to others, he was not 
inattentive to his own improvement. His active, 
capacious, and enterprising mind, collected in- 
formation through every channel — observation 
and reflection, conversation and study. He was 
attentive also to the cultivation of his talents in 
composition and oratory. But his chief pursuit 
was classical and polite literature. He revised 
with accuracy his college studies, and read all 
the works he could procure that were illustrative 
of the Greek and Roman antiquities. Virgil, 
among the ancient, and Shakspeare and Milton 
among the modern poets, appear to have been his 
favourites. These he laid under heavy contribu- 
tions, for the purpose of enriching and ornament- 
ing his mind. Most of the splendid passages which 
they contain he committed to memory, and would 
occasionally recite them for the entertainment of 
his friends. Although, from his own acknowledg- 
ment, this course of reading was irregular and 
desultory, it was, notwithstanding, highly impor- 
tant to him. There can be little doubt that he 
was deeply indebted to it, although himself, per- 
haps, unconscious of the facts, for many of the 
gorgeous specimens of imagery, which, at sub- 
sequent periods of his life, burst forth with such 
a lustre in his public speeches, heightening their 
beauties, and adding to their efllect. 

Mr. Ames conmienced, at length, the study 
of the law, in the office of William Tudor, esq. of 
Boston, and was admitted to the bar in 1781. 



•^56 LITE OF AMES. 

Although he never drew his sword in the revo- 
lutionary conflict, which had now been raging 
for several years, he had been, with both his 
pen and his tongue, the ardent and able advo- 
cate of independence. He enriched the pubhc 
prints of the day with many excellent produc- 
tions, well calculated, from their warmth, their 
patriotism, and their cogency of argument, to 
animate the lukewarm and confirm the waver- 
ing. Feeling, as forcibly as the human heart 
can feel, a love of liberty and a detestation of 
arbitrary power, and convinced that our cause 
was righteous in itself, and would ultimately 
prevail under the favour of Heaven, he was 
highly instrumental in infusing into others a 
similar sentiment, and impressing on their minds 
a similar conviction. 

From the time of his first admission to the bar, 
Mr. Ames rose conspicuous over his youthful co- 
temporaries. He was remarked already as a 
pleader of uncommon eloquence, and a counsel- 
lor of judgment extraordinary for his years. He 
also, about this period, appeared with great re- 
putation, as a writer of political essays, under the 
signatures, first of Lucius Junius Brutus, and 
afterwards of Camillus. His papers, young as 
he was, were no less replete with the maxims of 
wisdom, and the lessons of experience, than en- 
riched by the fertility and adorned and enlivened 
by the flashes of genius. They were written in 
consequence of certain threatening commotions 
which existed in Massachusetts, and produced 
on the pubhc mind a very salutary effect. 



LIFE OF AMES. 25T 

In 1788, he was a member of the convention 
called in that state for the purpose of ratifying 
the federal constitution. It was here that, for 
the first time, his talents were exhibited in tiieir 
full extent. They opened with a splendour that 
astonished while it dazzled the assembly and the 
public. His celebrated speech on biennial elec- 
tions, delivered on this occasion, was not only 
able and conclusive in argument, but was justly 
regarded as a finished model of parliamentary 
eloquence. It insured his election to a seat in 
the house of representatives of the state legisla- 
ture for the same year. 

To such a pitch had his popularity now arisen, 
that the highest places of honour and trust at 
the disposal of his constituents were placed 
within his reach. He was, accordingly, on the 
establishment of the federal government, elect- 
ed the first representative to Congress from Suf- 
folk district, which included within its Hniits the 
town of Boston. 

His talents and attainments were now to en- 
counter the severest tests. — An ordeal, which, 
if passed in safety, would furnish decisive evi- 
dence of their soundness and extent. — They 
were to be brought into conflict and comparison 
with those of the most distinguished statesmen of 
the nation. The issue of the trial, arduous as it 
was, did not long continue doubtful. The very 
first struggle declared in his favour. He evinced, 
at once, the strength of a giant and the skill of 
an adept — the resources of age, pressed to their 
object by the ardour of youth and the firmness of 
y2 



258 LIFE OF AMES. 

nianhoocl. He appeared now to the nation at 
large, what he had before appeared to the state 
of Massachusetts, a statesman whose qnahfica- 
tions were already great, his views honest, and 
his love of country ardent and pure; but the 
measure of whose promise was not yet filled up. 
The correctness of this opinion was amply con- 
iirmed by the course of events which aftervi^ards 
ensued. For, although illustrious from the com- 
mencement for his lofty eloquence and powers 
of debate, he did not shine forth in all his bright- 
ness till near the close of his congressional career. 
He was eight years a leading member of the 
house of representatives. During this period, 
the most momentous duties that can occupy the 
attention of a deliberative assembly were dis- 
charged by Congress. The federal constitution 
was in existence, but not in operation, for want 
of the necessary arrangements and means. The 
entire machinery of government was yet to be 
constructed and put in motion. Accordingly, all 
the civil departments were framed and establish- 
ed; pi"ovision was made for the administration of 
justice, and the restoration and maintenance of 
public credit; and a system of internal taxation, 
secure from the fluctuations and contingencies 
of foreign commerce digested, niatured, and car- 
ried into effect. In addition to these points, 
others no less difficult and of superior delicacy, 
repeatedly engaged the deliberations of the legis- 
lature. By a wise and firm, a humane and 
magnanimous policy, the friendship of the In- 
dian tribes was seemed, serious differences with 



LIFE OF AMES. 259 

some of the European nations were accom- 
modated, and the country was saved from a 
foreign war. Commerce was cherislied and 
invigorated, a spiing was given to industry of 
every description, and plenty and gladness were 
spread over the land. 

In the debates of the representative body on 
these topics, which were unusually protracted and 
highly animated, Mr. Ames always sustained a 
most conspicuous part. While his wisdom im- 
parted light to the minds of his colleagues, his 
patriotic sentiments, impressed on their liearls 
by the power of his eloquence, tended to confirm 
them in the discharge of their duty. He was 
at once tlie champion and trust of his own party, 
the admiration of the house, and the favourite of 
the pubhc. 

His speech on the appropriation bill for carry- 
ing into effect our treaty with Great Britain, was 
the most august specimen of oratory he ever 
exhibited, and may be regarded as constituting 
an epoch in his life. For its influence on the 
minds, and its ascendency over the feelings of 
those who heard it — and the audience was dig- 
nified, enlightened and refined — it was never, 
perhaps, exceeded by any event in the history 
of eloquence. In modern times, we recollect no 
occurrence of the kind that appears to have 
equalled it. As the circumstances attending it 
were peculiar and interesting, a brief recital of 
them will be pertinent to our purpose, as well, 
we flatter ourselves, as gratifying to our readers. 

The debate on the bill to which we have al- 



260 LIFE OF AMES. 

luded, had been continued to an extent that was 
altogether unprecedented in the legislature of 
the country. In the course of it, the expressions 
of personal feelings had been freely indulged, 
and the collisions of party inordinately keen. 
The public mind, although deeply interested in 
it at hrst, had grown weary of its length, and 
was anxious now that it should be brought to a 
close. The house itself, particularly the mem- 
bers who had already spoken, gave strong indi- 
cations of a similar desire. For several days 
the question had been called for at the termina- 
tion of every speech, sometimes with a vehe- 
mence and pertinacity amounting almost to a 
breach of decorum. 

During all this time, Mr. Ames, in a very shat- 
tered condition of health, and bowed down by a 
load of mental despondency, had remained a 
silent spectator of the conflict. He had deter- 
mined, he thought inflexibly, not on any account 
to mingle in the debate. He was, therefore, 
wholly unprepared on the subject. He had even 
endeavoured to persuade himself that a conscious- 
ness of his inability to exert his faculties had ex- 
tinguished in him all desire to speak. As the 
moment, however, approached, when the vote 
was to be taken, and, in his estimation, the die 
cast, which must settle, perhaps for ages, the 
fate of his country, his resolution forsook him, 
and his patriotism triumphed over his prudence. 

From an expectation on the part of some that 
l!)e question would be that day decided, and of 
others, that, perhaps Mr. Ames might, from a 



IIFE OF AMES. 261 

Strong sense of duty, be prevailed on to speak, 
the gallery and the lobbies were unusually 
crowded. For refinement and intellect, wealth 
and fashion, the flowerof Philadelphia was pre- 
sent on the occasion. 

In the midst of these circumstances, with a 
pale countenance and a languid air, the orator 
arose, and in a voice feeble at the commence- 
ment, addressed himself to the chair. On wit- 
nessing this patriotic exertion of their favourite, 
the last perhaps he might ever make, the audi- 
ence, who, in their keen impatience that the 
debate should be closed, would have been 
tempted to frown on any other speaker, re- 
ceived him with an audible hum of applause. 
To this involuntary expression of their satisfac- 
tion succeeded a silence the most respectful and 
profound. 

Animated, for the time, by the powerful 
workings of his own mind, and deriving from 
the high importance of the conjuncture a degree 
of strength to which his frame had long been a 
stranger, the orator's ardour and energy in- 
creased as he proceeded, his voice acquired a 
wider compass, and he carried the house tri- 
umphantly along with him. Never was mortal 
gazed on with more steadfast attention, nor lis- 
tened to with a superior degree of delight. Pale 
and sickly as it was, his countenance was irra- 
diated with unaccustomed fires; whatever fee- 
bleness of voice might still remain, was reme- 
died by its distinctness, and forgotten at times 
in its exquisite intonations. 



262 - LIFE OF AMES. 

He addressed himself to every faculty of the 
mind, and awakened every sentiment and emo- 
tion of the heart. Argmiient and remonstrance, 
entreaty and persuasion, terror and warning, 
fell, now like the music, and now like the thun- 
der of Heaven, from his lips. He appeared like 
patriotism eloquently pleading for the salvation 
of his country. The effect produced is inde- 
scribahle. He seemed to throw a spell over the 
senses, rendering them indifferent, perhaps we 
should say insensible, to every thing but himself. 
So completely did he annihilate all perception 
and prevent all measurement of the lapse of 
time, that no one present had any idea of the 
length of his speech. 

When he ceased to speak, the audience 
seemed to awake as from a dream of delight. 
So lost were they in admiration; so fascinate_d 
and subdued by the charms of his eloquence, 
that no one had the natural command of his fa- 
culties. Conscious of this, a member of distinc- 
tion, whose sentiments were opposed to those of 
the orator, moved for an adjournment, that the 
house might have time to cool and recover it- 
self before the vote should be taken; because, 
said he, should the question be now decided, it 
will be difficult for gentlemen to answer even to 
themselves, whether the votes they may give be 
the result of sound conviction or of high- wrought 
sensibility, or whether in giving those votes they 
be governed by reason or seduced by a charm. 
A higher compliment to the powers of Ml*. 
Ames, it was scarcely within the compass of Inn- 



LIFE 0¥ AMES, 263 

giiage to bestow. Aa acknowledgment was im- 
plied in it, that the most flexible resolutions of the 
hmnan mind, and the firmest compact that party 
can form, were in danger of being broken by 
the force of his eloquence. 

In consideration of his rank as a statesman 
and a scholar, the college of Princeton confer- 
red on him in the autumn of the same year the 
honorary degree of doctor of laws. 

He attended the succeeding session of Con- 
gress, but owing to his infirm health, he did not 
aspiro to his usual ascendency in business and 
debate. Yet he was not a silent observer of 
events. On a few occasions, when matters of 
peculiar interest induced him to speak, he ap- 
peared in nearly his accustomed splendour. 

His time of service as a member of Congress 
having expired, he declined a re-election, deter- 
mining to abandon political, and to retire to pri- 
vate and professional life. The interests of his 
family, no less than the shattered condition of 
his health, rendered this a necessary measure. 
But his ever vigilant and sensitive mind was too 
observant of passing occurrences, and too keenly 
alive to the aspect of the times, to be entirely ab- 
stracted from public affairs. 

Still, therefore, to sustain the character of a 
citizen watchful of the rights and interests of 
his country, he became again a political writer. 
He conceived that he beheld his fellow citizens 
in slumbers while danger was approaching them, 
and his object was to arouse, to enlighten, and 
to alarm. For these purposes, his pen poured 



204 LlkTS, OF AMJas. 

into the public presses the same streams of wis- 
dom and eloquence, which formerly, in the house 
of representatives, had fallen from his tongue. 
But the sphere of his action, if not of his influ- 
ence over the affairs of his country, appeared to 
be increased. When in public life, he had spo- 
ken but to hundreds, or at most to a few thou- 
sands; but millions were included in his present 
audience; for he addressed himself now to his 
countrynjen at large, to his cotemporaries in 
other countries, and to posterity. 

His views in relation to political occurrences 
were surprisingly clear. Even the mists of fu- 
turity were unable to obscure the brightness of 
his vision. Hence, in many of his predictions, 
he might almost seem to have been enlightened 
by a spirit of prophecy, so accurate were his 
perceptions and so perfect his disclosure of 
events that were to come. Of the correctness 
of this statement his writings afford conclusive 
testimony. 

With but slight interruptions, occasioned by 
sickness or some unusual pressure of profes- 
sional business, he continued his contributions 
to political literature as long as he was able to 
exercise his pen. 

Once only after his retirement from Congress 
did he suffer himself to be placed in the council 
of the commonwealtl) of Massachusetts. In the 
year 1800, he prepared and pronounced, by pub- 
lic appointment, an eulogy on Washington. In 
1804, he was invited to the presidency of Har- 
vard University. This honour he promptly de- 



LIFE Of AMES. 265 

cliiied, assigning as his reasons the insufficiency 
of his health, and the nntitness, as he beheved, 
of his general habits for the perfect discharge of 
the duties of the office. 

About this period his disease, which was pul- 
monary consumption, began to manifest more 
formidable symptoms. His decline, although 
slow, became regular and iminterrupted. His 
debility of body was now extreme; but the acti- 
vity of his mind was still considerable; and Tiis 
firmness and fortitude remained unshaken. He 
Wc ^ sustained in his sufferings by consolations 
derived from a two-fold source — philosophy and 
religion. He viewed his approaching dissolution 
with the calmness of a sage, and looked beyond 
it with the hopes of a Christian. Although few 
men had more or stronger motives for wishing to 
live — the ties of friendship and affliction, the 
claims of his family, and the public honours 
which solicited his acceptance; yet none could 
meet death with more perfect tranquillity. In 
his last moments he manifested the same spirit 
of universal philanthropy, for which through life 
he had always been remarkable: he embraced 
in his solicitudes, not only his friends and his 
country, but the human race. He died at his re- 
sidence in Dedham, on the morning of the 4th of 
July, 1808, in the fifty-first year of his age. 

Possessing a mind of a great and extraordinary 
character, Mr. Ames was peculiarly qualified to 
instruct and delight, enlighten and adorn. His 
reasoning powers were admirable, but he did 
not reason in the form of logic. By striking al- 

z 



2G(i LIFE OF AMES. 

lusions more than by regular deductions, he com- 
pelled assent. The richness of his fancy, the 
fertility of his invention, both as to argument 
and figure, and the abundance of his thoughts, 
were as remarkable as the justness and strength 
of his understanding. 

He was not only a man of distinguished talents, 
whose public career was splendid, but he was 
amiable in private life, and endeared to his ac- 
quaintance. To a few friends he unveiled him- 
self without reserve. They found him modest 
and unassuming, untainted with ambition, sim- 
ple in manners, correct in morals, and a model 
of every social and personal virtue. The charms 
of his conversation were unequalled. 

He entertained a firm belief in Christianity, 
and his belief was founded on a thorough inves- 
tigation of the subject. He read most of the 
best writings in defence of the Christian reli- 
gion, but his mind was satisfied by a view ra- 
ther of its internal than its external evidences. 
He thought it impossible, that any man of a fair 
mind could read the Old Testament, and medi- 
tate on its contents, without a conviction of its 
truth and inspiration. The sublime and correct 
ideas which the Jewish scriptures convey of God, 
connected with the fact that all other nations, 
many of whom were superior to the Jews in ci- 
vilization and general improvement, remained 
in darkness and error on this fundamental sub- 
ject, formed in his view a conclusive argument. 
After reading the book of Deuteronomy, he 
expressed his astonishment that any man, versed 



i.irc or AMES. £67 

ill antiquities, could have the hardihood to say 
that it was the production of human ingenuity. 
Marks of divinity, he said, were stamped upon 
it. Being opposed to metaphysical and contro- 
versial theology, he disliked the use of technical 
and sectarian {)hrases. The term Trinity, how- 
ever, he frequently used with reverence, and in 
a niv^nner wiiich implied his belief of the doc- 
trine. His persuasion of the divinity of Christ 
he often declared, and his belief of this truth 
s«^ems to have resulted from a particular inves- 
tigation of the subject, for he remarked to a 
friend, that he once read the Evangelists with 
the sole purpose of learning what the Saviour 
had said of himself 

He was an admirer of the common translation 
of the Bible; he considered it as a specimen of 
pure English; and though he acknowledged 
that a few phrases had grown obsolete, and that 
a few passages might be obscurely translated, 
yet he should consider the adoption of any new 
translation as an incalculable evil. He lamented 
the prevailing disuse of the Bible in our schools. 
He tliought that children should early be made 
acquainted with the important truths which it 
contains, and he considered it as a principal in- 
strument of making them acquainted with their 
own language in its purity. He said, "I will 
hazard the assertion, that no man ever did or 
ever will become truly eloquent, without being 
a constant reader of the Bible, and an admirer 
of the purity and subhmity of its language.^' 

Mr. Ames made a public profession of reli- 



268 LIFE OF AMES. 

gion in the First Congregational Church iu Ded- 
nam. With this church he regularly communed 
till precluded by indisposition from attending 
public worship. His practice corresponded with 
his profession. His life was regular and irre- 
proachable. Few, who have been placed in si- 
milar circumstances, have been less contami- 
nated by intercourse with the woild. It is 
doubted whether any one ever heard him utter 
an expression calculated to excite an impious or 
impure idea. The most scrutinizing eye disco- 
vered in him no disguise or hypocrisy. His 
views of himself, however, were humble and 
abased. He was often observed to shed tears 
while speaking of his closet devotions and expe- 
riences. He lamented the coldness of his heart 
and the wanderings of his thoughts while ad- 
dressing himself to his Maker, or meditating on 
the precious truths which he had revealed. It 
is very satisfactory to find such high intellectual 
powers harmonizing with religion and virtue. 

In his last sickness, when near his end, and 
when he had just expressed his belief of his ap- 
proaching dissolution, he exhibited submission 
to the Divine will and the hope of the Divine fa- 
vour. " I have peace of mind,'' said he. " It 
may arise from stupidity; but I think it is 
founded on a belief of tlie Gospel." At the 
same time he disclaimed every idea of meriting 
salvation. "My hope," said he, "is in the 
mercy of God through Jesus Christ." 

Soon after his death, a selection from his po- 
Htical essays was published in one volume of five 



lilFE OF DR. RUSH. 269 

liuncired pages, octavo. His works are honourable 
to his memory, and constitute a valuable addi- 
tion to political literature. 



DR. RUSH. 



Benjamin Rush, M. D. was born on the 24th 
of December, 1 745, on a small estate belonging 
to his father, situated in Berberry township, 
Idnnsylvania, and distant about twelve miles 
from the city of Philadelphia. His family, who 
were originally from England, had so long re- 
sided in this country, that he was the third in 
descent from the period of their emigration. He 
was, thei'efore, no less in blood than in senti- 
ment, a real American. His father died while 
he was young; leaving him to the care of a good 
mother. At an early age he was sent to the 
grammar school of Nottingham, in the state of 
Maryland, taught at tfie time by his maternal 
uncle, the Rev. Dr. Samuel Finley, who was 
afterwards president of the college of New 
Jersey. 

At the age of fourteen, he entered the college 
just mentioned, then under the presidency of the 
pious and eloquent Rev. Samuel Davies; and 
graduated Bachelor of Arts in the autumn of 
1760. His progress in study was rapid; and 
evinced those intellectual qualities, by which he 
was afterwards distinguished. In the art of 
speaking he was peculiarly happy. On this at- 
count his friends were inclined to commend the 
z2 



^70 LIFE OF DR. lit^it. 

profession of the law to his choice; but by the 
advice of his old preceptor, Dr. Finlcy, who was 
intimately acquainted with his genius and tem- 
per, he fortunately, perhaps, selected the profes- 
sion of medicine. He commenced his medical 
studies, imder the direction of the late Dr. Red- 
man of Philadelphia; with whom he continued 
a student six years. It has been stated by his 
eulogists, that, in this long apprenticeship, he 
was absent from his studies only two days. Such 
application was of itself ominous of future emi- 
nence. 

Having acquired such elementary knowledge 
in medicine as the resources of his native coun- 
try at that time afforded, young Rush, for the 
completion of his education, repaired, in the 
year 1766, to the school of Edinburgh, then in 
the zenith of its utility and renown. He remain- 
ed a student of medicine in that place, until the 
spring of 1 768. He then obtained the degree 
of Doctor of Medicine. His thesis was: "De 
concoctione ciborumin ventriculo.'^ At the time 
when he graduated, the celebrated Drs. Cullen, 
Black, Gregory, and Robertson were professors 
in the university. Dr. Rush spent the succeed- 
ing winter in London; in the spring of 1769, 
visited Paris; and in the summer returned to 
Philadelphia. While travelling, he employed 
every opportunity, of observation and society, in 
the acquisition of science, and general learning 
connected with medicine, 

On the 1st of August, 1769, Dr. Rush was 
unanimously elected professor of chemistry, in 



LIFE OF DR. RUSH. 271 

the college of Philadelphia. He soon after his 
settlement became extensively engaged in the 
practice of his profession. At the same time he 
devoted all his leisure from active study, to read- 
ing and writing on subjects of science, morals, 
and politics. He entered life in a very interest- 
ing era. At this period in the history of the 
United States, the people awoke from a long 
lethargy, induced by the ease with which subsist- 
ence was every where procured, and the tran- 
quillity and contentment that arose from their 
almost entire abstraction from the affairs of state. 
Being colonists of Great Britain, their govern- 
ment was administered chiefly by the agents of 
the crown, the natives of old England. The 
Americans had consequently fallen into a com- 
plete monotony. But they now displayed a sud- 
den ardour for innovation. Their passions were 
stimulated to new desires; their intellectual fa- 
culties to new energies. An elevation of thought 
every where accompanied an elevation of con- 
duct; and a thirst for pohtical liberty became 
almost universal. In the midst of this fermenta- 
tion, the genius of Dr. Rush was inspired by a 
kindred excitement; and his heart glowed with 
the ardour of a patript. The idea of emancipa- 
tion from a colonial state, of ejecting a foreign 
government, and of substituting a national inde- 
pendence, generated enthusiasm, and quickened 
enterprise among the people. The prospect was 
charming to the philosopher, and the friend of 
man. His heart exulted in the near approach 
of national liberty. He caught up his pen at 



2752 LIFE or nil. RUSH. 

once to enlighten and fortify the popular mind, 
and stimulated to luminous action. Casting his 
observation upon the state of society immediately 
about his person, he beheld a portion of his fel- 
low beings, in a condition not to be interested in 
the question of national freedom. Individual 
slavery was tolerated by the laws of the land in 
which he lived. How, thought he, can a people, 
holding thousands of human creatures in abject 
bondage, look to the Creator of all for aid in a 
struggle for national emancipation. 

In the year 1771, Dr. Rush published essays 
against tlie slavery of the blacks; and subse- 
quently others on a topic nearly allied to person- 
al liberty and individual rights — capital punish- 
ments. In both he displayed popular talents as 
a writer, and a temper consistent with pure mo- 
rality and the spirit of Christianity. His labours 
resulted in salutary modifications of the penal 
code and a melioration of the condition of slaves, 
at least in Pennsylvania. The penitentiary sys- 
tem is a monument of his genius, and the gradual 
disappearance of slavery in the state, an eulogium 
on his memory. 

Dr. Rush was an early and efficient advocate 
for the independence of the colonies. Stimu- 
lating his fellow citizens by his energy and ex- 
ample, he encouraged them to resist the preten- 
sions of the mother country. His labours were 
not confined to his desk, or the circle of his 
neighbours and friends. He was a member of 
the continental congress, in 1776, and signed 
the declaration of independence. 



LIFE OF DR. RUSH. 27^ 

In 1777, he was appointed physician general 
to the American army. This office he resigned 
in 1778, and resumed the private practice oi' 
medicine; the emoluments of which he had vo- 
luntarily surrendered for a time to the higher 
interests of his country. Having devoted him- 
self, for nine years, to the duties of his profes- 
sion, he appeared again on the political theatre. 
In 1788, he was a member of the convention of 
Pennsylvania, which adopted and ratified the 
fr .leral constitution. 

In 1 789, Dr. Rush was elected to the chair 
of the " Theory and Practice of Physic^' in the 
college of Philadelphia. In 1791, the college 
of Philadelphia and the university of Pennsylva- 
vania having been united, he was appointed to 
teach the " Institutes of Medicine, and Clini- 
cal Practice;" and, in 1805, "Professor of the 
Institutes and Practice of Physic and Clinical 
Medicine.'' 

Dr. Rush was long treasurer of the United 
States Mint; and thirty years physician to the 
Pennsylvania Hospital. During the long period 
of his professional services to this humane and 
charitable institution, he never failed in his at- 
tendance within ten minutes of the time appoint- 
ed to prescribe for the patients, unless detained 
himself by sickness. This fact seems to be well 
authenticated at the hospital; and speaks a vo- 
lume of praise on his constancy to duty, and 
zeal for the cause of humanity. 

In 1793, Philadelphia was invaded by that 
dreadful epidemic, the yellow fever. The ser- 



i^74 LIFE* OP Dn. RLSJI. 

vices of Dr. Rush, in that awful crisis, liave de- 
servedly been celebrated in almost every part of 
the world. His sympathy and professional skill, 
displayed in the successful administration of re- 
lief to the affected, have identified his name 
with renown. In his amiable solicitude for the 
recovery of his patients, no less for strangers 
than acquaintances, no less for the poor than the 
wealthy, he confronted death itself; fearless of 
personal exposure, heedless of the envious deri- 
sions of his remedies, and disregarding the mis- 
representations of his motives. To many now 
living he was, in that dreadful season of almost 
universal calamity, a messenger of life; while 
thousands, hurried away to the regions from 
whose bourne no traveller returns, with their 
expiring prayers invoked blessings on his head. 
For weeks and months did he sacrifice his re- 
pose, and, had Heaven so willed it, was fully 
prepared to surrender his life — himself at once 
the pious minister and the expiatory offering — 
on the altar of humanity. In 1 798, the city was 
visited by the same epidemic. So conspicuous 
were the benefits of his services on this occasion, 
and so incessant was his attendance at the hos- 
pital, that the Board of Health complimented 
him with an elegant piece of plate, appropriately 
inscribed. 

Dr. Rush's reputation occupied an extensive 
sphere. It encompassed all Christendom. Of 
this, unquestionable testimony can be cited. He 
Avas an honorary member of almost all respecta- 
ble literary and medical institutions in his own 



LIFE OF UR. RUSH. 275 

country. He was presented with the freedom 
of the city of Edinburgh, while a student in its 
university; and at the same time was admitted a 
member of the "Revokition Club." He was 
chosen corresponding member of " The London 
Society for the Encouragement of Arts and Ma- 
nufactures," in 1772. In 1786. he was elected 
a member of the " Milan Society of Arts and 
Sciences;" and, jn 1791, of the German Society 
of "Naturas Curiosorum." In the Hfetime of 
president Washington, the earl of Buchan pre- 
sented him a box, made of the oak that sheltered 
the brave sir William Wallace, after the battle 
of Falkirk, with a request that he would pass it, 
on the event of his decease, to that citizen of the 
United States who, in his opinion, should best 
merit the compliment. President Washington, 
deeming the selection too dehcate for him, in his 
last will bequeathed the box to the earl, with 
grateful thanks for the distinguished honour, 
and more especially for the favourable senti- 
ments by which it was accompanied. On the 
decease of president Washington, the earl of 
Buchan transmitted the box to Dr. Rush, with 
the following letter:—" 20th February, 1803. 
Dear sir, I do myself the pleasure to transmit 
the box, which was bequeathed to me by the 
illustrious defender and founder of the American 
union. I pass it through your hands, who have 
approved yourself a real friend to your country, 
and an ornament to your important profession, 
in the most dangerous conjuncture; when, like 
another Sydenham, you exposed yourself to the 



'276 XIFK OF DR. ItUSII. 

ravages of pestilence amidst general desertion of 
domestic duty, to save useful lives. This noble 
and exemplary conduct entitles you to the sin- 
cere esteem of your obliged humble servant." — 
Signed^ "Buchan:" and underwritten, "Dr. 
Benjamin Rush, Philadelphia; with the box of 
Wallace." This valuable curiosity, presented 
originally to the earl of Buchan, by the Gold- 
smith's Company of Edinburgh, after its last ar- 
rival in the United States, was lost before it 
reached the hands of Dr. Hush. It was stolen 
from the gentleman who had it in charge, on the 
road between New York and Philadelphia. 

In 1805, Dr. Rush answered certain interro- 
gatories from the Prussian government, on the 
epidemic generally denominated yellow fever; 
for which, as a compliment from the king, he 
received a coronation medal; and in 1806, he 
received the thanks of the king of Spain, for 
answers to queries on the same subject. In 
1807, he received a gold medal from the queen 
of Etruria. In the same year he was chosen a 
member of the National Institute, class of fine 
arts; and a member of the School of Medicine, 
at Paris. In 1811, Alexander, emperor of Rus- 
sia, complimented his medical talents and cha- 
racter with the presentation of a diamond ring. 

The writings of Dr. Rush are popular, and 
have been widely circulated. They are: Ser-- 
mons to Gentlemen on Temperance and Exer- 
cise ; Treatise on Inoculation ; Treatise on 
Language; Treatise on the Moral Faculty; Let- 
ter on Tetanus; Essay on Maple Sugar; Essay 



LIFE OF DR. Kt'SH. -277 

Oil Capital Punisliments; Essays against Slavery; 
Introductoiy Lectures; Essays, Moral, Literary, 
and Pliilosophical; Medical Inquiries and Ob- 
servations. This work embraces a number of 
volumes, published at various times, from 1789 
to 1811, which have passed through several 
editions. His friend, the late Dr. Lettsom, a 
distinguished physician of London, thus criti- 
cised their contents: " Tlie work of professor 
Rush, on the yellow fever, his publication on the 
remittent bilious fever, and numerous other in- 
teresting and luminous essays, now enrich the 
libraries of many medical practitioners in Eu- 
rope. I cannot omit noticing the vast effort of 
genius, the novelty and bold decision in medical 
practice, and the amplitude of experiment, which 
his great work on the yellow fever every where 
elicits. When this grand production, uniting, 
in an almost unprecedented degree, sagacity and 
judgment, fust appeared, Europe was astonish- 
ed.'' 

In 1802, Dr. Rush published a volume en- 
titled, "Diseases of the Mind," a creditable me- 
morial of his literary and professional abilities. 
In a record of his literary labours, his letter to 
Dr. Belknap, on t!ie use of the Bible as a school- 
bookjiis oration on the death of Dr. Cullen, and 
his splendid eulogium on the life and character 
of the philosopher Rittenhouse, dehvered before 
the American Philosophical Society, deserve to 
be enumerated. Besides, Dr. Rush published 
many valuable essays in the different periodical 
journals of his country; not a few of which have 
A a 



278 LlVit. OF J)R. RISH. 

been translated into tlie various languages 6i' Eu- 
rope, and reprinted there with the most favoura- 
ble criticisms. In the latter years of his life, Dr. 
Rush confined his reading to medical and re- 
hgious books. These he read, with facihty, in 
Latin, Greek, French, Italian, and Spanish. 
In his native tongue he conversed and wrote 
with perspicuity and elegance. Perceiving the 
twilight of age advancing, he had designed to 
conclude his literary and professional writings 
by a work to be entitled, " The Medicine of the 
Bible.^' It appears from notes in his possession 
at his death, that his leisure had, for some time, 
been devoted to the preparation of such a work 
for the press. On his death bed, he regretted 
that he had not been able to complete it. His 
notes in this particular were too scanty to de- 
velop the plan, or enable another hand to per- 
fect it. The world, especially the friends of 
Christianity, have to lament the dispensation 
which prevented its execution by his pen. 

Dr. Rush was occupied forty-three years in 
the practice of physic. Though he never en- 
joyed robust health, such were the regidarity 
and temperance of his habits, he seldom suffer- 
ed severely from indisposition. In his last years, 
he was somewhat troubled with tussis sinilis. 
This did not come unexpectedly upon him. 
He had, from his youth, certain pulmonary 
symptoms, that threatened him with consump- 
tion. He died of an epidemic called " Typhus," 
or "Spotted Fever," on the 19th of April, 1813. 
Throughout his affliction, he continued perfect- 



J-lIE OF Dll. IILSH. 'ZTd 

ly rational; and in the utmost composure resign- 
ed his long and glorious life. His last moments 
were spent in prayer and suitable preparation 
for an expected departure to an eternal world. 
In the afternoon of Easter Sunday, at his own 
request, he was visited by the venerable Bishop 
AVhite, who conversed and prayed with him. At 
this time his disease was not supposed danger- 
ous: but in the course of the night he grew 
worse, and died the succeeding day. On the 
day of his departure, Mrs. Rush felt his forehead, 
and informed him that he was in a fine perspira- 
tion. " My dear," he replied, " it is not a good 
symptom." Shortly afterwards, he added; "My 
excellent wife! I must leave you! but God will 
take care of you!" Then, dropping from one of 
his hands a handkerchief, he clasped his hands 
together, and, with his eyes lifted towards hea- 
ven, in the most solemn and devotional manner, 
said; "By the mystery of thy holy incarnation; 
by thy holy nativity and circumcision; by thy 
baptism, fasting, and temptation ; by thine agony 
and bloody sweat; by thy cross and passion; by 
thy precious death and burial; by thy glorious 
I'esurrection and ascension; and by the coming 
of the Holy Ghost; blessed Jesus! wash away my 
icmaining impurities, and receive me into thy 
everlasting arms." He spoke indistinctly after- 
wards: but the preceding was the last sentence 
he uttered which could be comprehended. A 
solemn and long procession went with his re- 
mains to the grave. The circumstances of his 
funeral gave ample testimony of his living worth. 



'280 riFE or DR. RUSH. 

The sod, which covers his body, was hterally 
bedewed with the tears of thousands of his lellow 
citizens. 

Dr. Rush married, in tlie year 1776, Miss 
Juha Stockton, daughter of the venerable and 
much respected patriot, Richard Stockton, of 
New Jersey. This amiable lady, and a nume- 
rous, respectable family of children, yet live to 
mingle their grief with the sorrows of a whole 
community, for the loss of their great and good 
relative. 

It would be supererogation to eulogize the 
character of Dr. Rush as a physician. Its 
celebrity, as shown in the premises, cannot be 
enhanced by posthumous praise. In the chair, 
as professor, he was an able teacher, and popular 
lecturer. In his own family, among his friends, 
in the round of his civil and professional duties, 
in every relation to society, his hfe was irre- 
proachable. No one, it is believed, would 
qualify his memoirs with one exception. More 
could not be said in support of his excellence 
as a man; and it is presumed that justice would 
award this meed to his memory. Of his leligious 
character, we shall speak from the opinions of 
pious and eminent preachers of the Gospel, who 
had often conversed with him, and were well 
qualified to form correct sentiments on a subject 
of great concern to the world — the religious 
character of Dr. Rush. Above his eminence, 
said the Rev. Doctor Staughton, as a patriot and 
physician, rose his character as a Christian. 
Convinced of the ti'uth of the Scriptures, he en- 



LIFE OF DR. RUSH. 281 

deavoured to promote their universal circulation. 
His defence of the Bible, as a school-book, 
written at a time when infidelity carried a more 
brazen front than at the present day, has been 
eminently beneficial to his country. He was a 
prime mover of the Philadelphia Bible Society, 
the first established in the United States; drafted 
its constitution, and was one of its vice presidents, 
from its organization until his death. Much ac- 
customed to study the sublime truths of the Gos- 
pel for their own internal evidences, he fre- 
quently noted remarkable passages, which he 
sometimes presented to his friends and corres- 
pondents, with pious, ingenious, and instructive 
expositions. His professional lectures in the 
University, were adorned with the richest beau- 
ties of the inspired volume. His illustrations 
were variegated with the colours of heaven. 

Though the whole religious creed of Dr. Rush 
may not have accorded entirely with that oi any 
Christian denomination, his cardinal opinions 
were evangelical. His dependence for eternal 
life was alone on the atonement of the Son of 
God. He consecrated his sincerity on this de- 
pendence by receiving the sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper. He frequently and publicly 
communicated in the Episcopalian and Presbyte- 
rian churches; towards the close of his life, 
chiefly in the First Presbyterian Church of Phi- 
ladelphia, under the pastoral care of the Rev. 
Dr. James P. Wilson. He was uniform in the 
discharge of Christian duties, and died profess- 
ing a hope in the Saviour of sinners. Of his sen- 
AaS 



282 LIIE Of Dll. Rl SH. 

timents of the Christian reh'gion, Dr. Rush has 
left the following precise and satisfactory record. 
" The perfect morality of the Gospel rests upon 
a doctrine, which, though often controverted, 
has never been refuted — the vicarious life and 
death of the Son of God. This sublime and in- 
effable doctrine delivers us from the absurd hy- 
pothesis of modern philosophei's, concerning 
the foundation of moral obligation, and fixes it 
upon the self-moving principle of love. The 
miraculous conception of the Saviour of the 
world, by a Virgin, is not more opposed to the 
ordinary course of events, nor is the doctrine of 
atonement more above human reason, than those 
moral precepts which command us to love our 
enemies, or even to die for our friends.^' This 
precious paragraph completely answers the vo- 
lumes of vulgar derision on the Saviour's birth, 
writt.en by Voltaire, Paine, Volney, and their 
consociates. There is not one man, above the 
condition of an idiot, who will not admire the 
sentiment and morality of that precept which 
teaches us to love our enemies; yet, if we scru- 
tinize the human heart, and rightly analyse the 
nature of all its motives and propensities, we 
shall at once see that the duty which Chris- 
tianity enjoins, in this particular, is not more 
contrary to our real characters and dispositions, 
while in an unregenerated state, than the miracles 
of the Gospel are opposed to the infidel's law of 
nature. It has been deemed proper to say this 
much, in illustration of Dr. Hush's religious sen- 
timents, because his speculations, on the struc- 



LIFE OF DR. KUSII. 



ture and nature of mind, had given rise to some 
suspicions of their correctness. Whatever may 
have been his opinions as to the nature of the 
soul, it is not perceived that, nevertheless, his 
convictions of the truth of the Gospel, and the 
necessity of the atonement, could not be per- 
fectly evangelical. It is believed they were. 

The predominant trait in the character of Dr. 
Rush as a man was benevolence. He was one 
of the founders of the " Society for the Abolition 
of Slavery;" and since the year 1803, until his 
death, was annually and unanimously elected its 
president. He was a leader in the erection of 
an African Episcopal church in Philadelphia. 
In testimony of their gratitude for these services 
in their behalf, the black people of the city soli- 
cited and obtained permission to walk in proces- 
sion to the grave, before the remains of their 
beloved benefactor. 

The following anecdote in his life will afford 
sincere delight to every generous reader. He 
once visited an unfortunate debtor in jaiJ, con- 
fined by some barbarous and unchristian cre- 
ditor. To the family of the debtor, while in 
good circumstances, he had been many years 
physician. On taking leave of the unfortunate 
prisoner, the doctor put into his hands a sum of 
money, which exceeded the aggregate of all the 
fees he had formerly received from him in com- 
pensation of professional services. Memorable 
illustration of humanity and benevolence! worthy 
to be recorded on the same page with the para- 
ble qf the Samaritan, Dr. Rush exempted from 



284 LIFE OF BR. RUSH. 

charge ministers of the Gospel, and auxiliaries 
of the sick. He conscientiously appropriated 
the emolument of his practice on Sabbath days 
to charitable uses. To these, and many other 
anecdotes, should be added his essays against 
slavery and capital punishments, all tending to 
manifest the dominion of benevolence over his 
heart. If to his professional celebrity be added 
his reputation for benevolence, patriotism, and 
piety, the character of Dr. Rush will bear com- 
parison with any benefactor of the human race. 
His name is a brilliant star in the galaxy of Ame- 
rican worthies. His fame associates with the 
renown of Howard, Sydenham, Cullen, Boyle, 
Newton, Davies and Washington. His memory, 
like their memories, will endure until time shall 
be immersed in the ocean of eternity. 

His person was above the middle stature, and 
his figure slender but well proportioned. His 
forehead was prominent, his nose aquiline, his 
eyes blue and highly animated, and his mouth 
and chin expressive and comely. The diameter 
of his head from front to back was uncommonly 
large. His features combined bespoke the 
strength and activity of his intellect. His look 
was fixed, and his whole demeanour thoughtful 
and grave. 

In private life his disposition and deportment 
were in the highest degree exemplary. Admired 
and courted for his intellectual endowments, he 
rivetted to him the affections of all who enjoyed 
the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance. The 
affability of his manners, the amiableness of his 



LIFE OF DR. ItUSH. 285 

temper, and the benevolence of his character, 
were ever conspicuous. He was ardent in his 
friendships and I'orgiving in his resentments, and 
yet entertaining a due regard for himself and a 
liigh sense of honour, he possessed a manly in- 
dependence of spirit which disdained every thing 
mean and servile. He had an extraordinary 
command of language, and always imparted his 
thoughts in a peculiarly impressive and eloquent 
manner. Those who had the happiness to ex- 
perience tiie delights of his conversation, will 
long recollect with pleasure his unassuming mo- 
desty, and the rich stores of knowledge he 
poured forth on the most instructive topics. 
Even when his opinions were solicited they were 
given, not as the dictates or admonitions of a su- 
perior, but as the kind advice of a friend and 
equal. He never evinced any of that haughti- 
ness and affectation of importance which some- 
times attaches to men of eminence, and which 
so materially lessens the pleasures and comforts 
of social life. 

Such was Dr. Rush. " For nearly three thou- 
sand years past," says Mr. Delaplaine, "but few 
physicians equal in greatness have appeared in 
the world; nor is it probable that the number will 
be materially increased for ages to come. A 
great physician is as rare a personage as a great 
monarch/' 



-86 LIFE OF DR. RAMSAY. 



DR. RAMSAY. 



David Ramsay, M. D. an eminent physician, 
distinguished patriot, and popular historian, was 
born in Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, on the 
2d of April, 1749. He was the youngest son of 
James Ramsay, an Irish emigrant, and a respect- 
able, intelligent, and enterprising agriculturist. 
Mr. Ramsay, as was his custom with all his sons, 
gave to his son David the advantages of a liberal 
education. He was first sent to a common Eng- 
lish school; afterwards transferred to a classical 
academy; and thence to the college of New Jer- 
sey, where he graduated in 1 765. Between the 
age of twelve, and the period when he was 
crowned with the honours of one of the most 
respectable seminaries in the United States, he 
exhibited many evidences of a vigorous and do- 
cile intellect, and evinced a degree of industry 
rarely to be found in youths of genius. The 
peculiar bent of his mind was early manifested. 
In reading the Bible, at school, or in his father's 
house, while yet in his almost infantile yeai's, he 
discovered a singular attachment to its historical 
parts; and was particularly distinguished in ex- 
tempore recitations, of the miHtary and political 
events recorded in the sacred volume. This 
trait he cultivated, until his death; and his name 
and his memory are not a little indebted to it 
for the celebrity they now bear. At the age of 
twelve, he had completed the academical studies 



LIFE or DR. RAMSAY. 2^7 

preparatory to an introduction in college: but, 
by his judicious father and other friends, he 
was deemed too young to commence a collegiate 
course. In the meanwhile he was appointed 
assistant tutor in a reputable academy, at Car- 
lisle; and acquitted himself in that station so as 
to acquire the esteem and command the admi- 
ration of those who directed the interests of the 
institution. He remained at Carlisle one year, 
and thence proceeded to Princeton, where, not- 
withstanding his adolescence, he was found com- 
petent to vie with the sturdiest genius in his 
classes. 

From Princeton he went into Maryland, and, 
for two years, in the capacity of a private tutor, 
superintended the education of the children of 
a respectable private and wealthy gentleman. 
His leisure was profitably employed in general 
reading, and the cultivation of useful knowledge. 
Somewhat more matured in person, and conver- 
sant in the affairs of the world, he thought of the 
selection of one of the public professions; all of 
which were so respectable, and so inviting to a 
young gentleman, whose genius had passed fa- 
vourably the ordeal of competition, and whose 
reputation, as a scholar, was already extended 
over his country, as to render an election of the 
greatest concern. He finally resolved on the 
study of medicine. He pursued his object with 
unremitting assiduity, and closed his preparatory 
course, in the college of Pennsylvania, early in 
the year 1772. 

While a student of medicine Dr. Ramsay be- 



28b LIFE OF DR. RAMSAY, 

came acquainted with the late Dr. Benjamin 
Rush, of Philadelphia, then professor of chemis- 
try in the medical college. Their acquaintance 
grew into a strict alliance of friendship and af- 
fection, which terminated only in the grave. 

Dr. Ramsay commenced the active duties of 
his profession in Maryland, where he continued 
to practise for the space of one year. Thence 
he emigrated to Charleston, South Carolina. At 
this time, he carried with him a letter of recom- 
mendation, from his friend Dr. Rush, which 
announced him in very flattering terms. " Dr. 
Ramsay,^' said Dr. Rush, " studied physic regu- 
larly with Dr. Bond, attended the hospital, and 
public lectures of medicine, and afterwards gra- 
duated Bachelor of Piiysic, with great eclat. It 
is saying but little of him to tell you, that he is 
far superior to any peison we ever graduated at 
our college. His abilities are not only good 
but great. His talents and knowledge are 
universal. I never saw so much strength of 
memory and imagination united to so line a 
judgment. His manners are polished and agree- 
able; his conversation lively; and his behaviour, 
to all men, always without offence. Joined to 
all these, he is sound in his principles, strict, nay 
more, severe in his morals, and attached, not by 
education only, but by principle, to the dissent- 
ing interest. He will be an acquisition to your 
society. He writes, talks, and, what is more, 
he lives well. I can promise more for him in 
every thing, than I could for myself" Enthu- 
siastic as this drawing may seem, Dr. Ramsay 



LIFli OF liK. IIAMSAI. £89 

proved by his future life that it was faithful. A 
probation of forty years confirmed the opinions 
of his friend. 

Soon after his settlement in Charleston, Dr. 
Ramsay acquired great celebrity as a physician, 
and rose to very high eminence among his fellow 
citizens. His activity and usefulness were not 
confined to his profession. He took a leading 
part in the public affairs, and was well qualified, 
by his talents and general knowledge, to counsel 
and direct, in the very interesting crisis that 
shortly followed his domiciliation in Carolina. 
In the revolutionary strggle, he was an enthusi- 
astic whig, and exerted all his powers to promote 
the independence of his country. No reverses, 
no misfortunes, ever caused his patriotism to 
waver. He was constant in his attachment to 
the cause of republicanism; and boldly depre- 
cated the surrender of the cause of liberty, even 
in the most gloomy and inauspicious seasons. 
On the 4th of July, 1778, he delivered an ora- 
tion to the citizens of Charleston, in which he 
explicitly asserted, that " our present form of 
government is every way preferable to the royal 
one we have lately renounced." It ably illus- 
trates the advantages of a newly established re- 
publican government, which he contended was 
best calculated to bring into action the energies 
of the human mind; to entice from obscurity 
modest and retiring merit; to obviate the bane- 
ful effects of luxury; to preserve innocence and 
morality among the people; to diffuse know- 
ledge; to equalize property; and to promote pub- 
lic virtue and true religion. I^is oration had 
Bb 



i2UU J.IFE 01' DR. IIAMS.VT. 

the most salutary effects upon the dispositions 
and resohitions of the inhabitants of Charleston. 
His pen was constantly employed in defence of 
the revolution, and in the reprobation of those 
sordid affections, which led too many to prefer 
a little property, and self accommodation, to the 
independence of their country and the ultimate 
liberty of the people. Among the many fugitive 
essays which he wrote on various occasions, du- 
ring the revolution, one entitled " A Sermon on 
Tea," was deservedly popular. The text was 
taken from Paul's epistle to the Colossians, 2d 
chapter, 21st verse. "Touch not, taste not, 
handle not." The sermon was a happy appeal 
to the patriotism of the people, who considered 
the use of tea the source of the greatest evils. 
It humorously caricatured the British premier 
with chains and haltei's in one hand, and a cup 
of tea in the other; while the genius of Ame- 
rica exclaimed, touch not, taste not, handle not; 
for in the day thou drinkest thereof, thou shalt 
surely die. 

Dr. Ramsay, in his early years, was greatly 
distinguished for wit and humour. He carefully 
watched over these traits; and in his riper years 
prudently refrained from their indulgence. It 
was only in moments of relaxation they could 
be detected in his conversation. 

For some time, he attended the army in the 
capacity of surgeon; and was with the Charles- 
ton Ancient Battalion of Artillery at the siege 
of Savannah. His political career commenced 
with the revolution ; and during its continuance 
he was ever actively and usefully engaged. He 



LIFE OF Dll. liAMSAY. 291 

was an active and leading member of the legis- 
lature of South Carolina, from 1776 to the con- 
clusion of* the war. He was a member of the 
privy council part of the time; and, with many 
of the most respectable citizens of Charleston, 
suffered banishment, by the enemy, to St. Au- 
gustine. In an excliange of prisoners, Dr. Ram- 
say was released, and permitted to return to the 
United States, after an absence of eleven months. 
On his return he resumed his seat in the legisla- 
ture of the state, then sitting at Jacksonborough. 
It was here he was distinguished by a concilia- 
tory humanity, in his opposition to the acts con- 
fiscating the estates of those who adhered to 
Great Britain. Though convinced that the con- 
duct of some of those who came under the ope- 
ration of those acts merited the severest punisli- 
ment, yet he tenderly commiserated many who 
he was persuaded acted from the dictates of 
their consciences. The latter he would have 
exempted from the penalties of confiscation. 

In 1782 Dr. Ramsay was elected a member 
of the continental Congress. In that body he 
was distinguished for his industiy and intelli- 
gence. He greatly commended himself to tiie 
confidence and affection of his constituents, by 
his exertions to procure them relief from the ra- 
vages of the enemy, who then ovenun their 
country. At the close of the war he returned 
to Charleston, and resumed the practice of phy- 
sic. In 1785, he was elected to represent the 
Charleston district in Congress. In consequence 
of the absence of the president of that board, the 



J292 LI'PE OF DR. RAMSAY. 

celebrated John Hancock, Dr. Ramsay was 
chosen the president pro tempore, and presided 
for a whole year with ability, industry, and im- 
partiality. During the following year, he again 
returned to the duties of his profession, which 
he pursued with increased reputation. Dr. Ram- 
say was a fluent, rapid, and ready speaker. His 
style was simple; his reasoning logical and per- 
suasive, and his illustrations pertinent and ori- 
ginal. 

In his political life, Dr. Ramsay was an ex- 
ample of pure disinterestedness. The good of 
his country preponderated all other considera- 
tions. He was an unsophisticated republican, 
and never changed his principles. He never in- 
termeddled with mere party politics; was chari- 
table towards all who differed from him in opi- 
nions; and in his conversation and writing en- 
deavoured to allay invidious passions, and incul- 
cate unanimity among the American people. 

As an author. Dr. Ramsay became exten- 
sively celebrated. In this regard his reputation 
is well established, not only throughout the Uni- 
ted States, but in Europe. He excelled in the 
department of history. His talents, education, 
habits of observation, industry, memory, and im- 
partiality, eminently fitted him for an historian. 
His History of the Revolution in South Carolina, 
was published in 1 785. This work obtained great 
celebrity in the United States, and was shoi'tly 
after its appearance translated and published in 
France, and was read with avidity in every part 
of Europe. While he was a member of Con- 



l,IFfi OF DR. RAMSAY. 293 

gress in 1785, he prepared his History of the 
American Revolution. In the prosecution of 
this enterprise, he carefully inspected all the 
puhlic records which related to the revolution^ 
conferred freely and frequently with his venera- 
ble friends. Dr. Franklin and Dr. Witherspoon; 
and visited general Washington at Mount Ver- 
non, who gladly coinnuinicated every informa- 
tion in his power, to enable the historian to fur- 
nish to the world a true record of the events that 
resulted in the establishment of American inde- 
pendence. He published the History of the 
American Revolution in 1790. This work passed 
the ordeal of criticism, and is esteemed of high 
rank in Europe, as well as in the United States. 
It passed through two large editions, and is now 
entirely out of the market. In 1801 Dr. Ram- 
say published the Life of Washington. In this 
biography, the character of the illustrious foun- 
der of the independence of the United States is 
well sustained. In 1808 he published the His- 
tory of South Carolina, being an extension of an 
interesting work, entitled, "A Sketch of the 
Soil, Chmate, Weather, and Diseases of South 
Carolina," published in 1796. 

In 181 1, Dr. Ramsay compiled and caused to 
be published, the memoirs of his estimable wife, 
recently deceased. Besides the works men- 
tioned, he published, at different periods, " An 
Oration on the acquisition of Louisiana;" "A 
Review of the improvements, progress, and 
state of Medicine in the eighteenth century;" 
"A Medical Register for the year 1802;" "A 
Bh2 



'294 LIFE OF mj. RAMSAr. 

Dissertation on the means of preserving Health 
in Charleston;" "A Biographical Chart, on a 
new plan, to facilitate the study of History;" 
and " An Eulogium on Dr. Rush." 

Among the manuscripts left by Dr. Ramsay, 
on his decease, were, " A History of the United 
States, from their first settlement as English co- 
lonies, to the end of the year 1808;" and a se- 
ries of historical volumes, to be entitled, " Uni- 
versal History Americanised; or a historical 
view of the world, from the earliest records to 
the nineteenth century, with a particular refer- 
ence to the state of society, literature, religion, 
and form of government in the United States of 
America." The first was published early in the 
year 1817, with a continuation to the treaty of 
Ghent, by the Rev. Samuel Stanhope Snnth, 
D. D. and L. L. D., and other literary gentle- 
men, in three volumes, octavo. The latter had 
occupied the leisure of the historian more than 
fprty years. It yet remains to be published. 

Of Dr. Ramsay it has been truly said, that no 
miser was ever so precious of his gold, as he was 
of his time. He was not riierely economical, but 
parsimonious of it to the highest degree. He 
never allowed for the table, recreation or repose, 
a single moment that was not demanded for the 
preservation of health. In his habits he was 
strictly temperate. He usually slept four hours, 
rose before the light of day, and meditated with 
a book in his hand until he could see to read. 
His evenings only were allotted to recreation. 
He never read by the light of a candle. With 



LIFIS or DR. KAMSAV. 295 

the approach of twihght he laid aside his book 
and his pen, and surrounded by his family and 
friends, indulged those paternal and social feel- 
ings which are ever cherished by a good man. 

The predominate trait in the character of Dr. 
Ramsay was philanthropy. It was the motion 
of all his actions. In the constant exercise of 
his disposition to do good, he frequently em- 
barked in enterprises too mighty to be accom- 
plished by an individual. In this way his private 
fortune was wrecked. His genius and enter- 
prise carried him, in his anticipations, far before 
the multitude, vvhp generally tread on the heels 
of experience. Thus he was frequently tempted 
to vest private revenue in projects and specula- 
tions that had for their object ultimately the pub- 
lic benefit, and immediately a demonstration of 
their practicability, to enlist auxiliaries both of 
character and means. Running before his co- 
temporaries, who were generally more attached 
to their money than enterprises for the improve- 
ment of the country, he was sometimes consi- 
dered visionary. And indeed the result of his 
life proved, that he was better qualified to direct 
the affairs of a nation than manage a private for- 
tune. The great concerns to which he con- 
stantly directed his reflections, were the im- 
provement of the moral, social, intellectual, and 
physical state of his country. To disseminate 
the doctrines of the Bible, to promote public 
schools and colleges, and to carry commerce to 
every man^s door by means of artificial roads, ca- 
nals, and the channels which nature formed, 



296 LiFE OF DR. RAMSAY. 

were objects that lay near to his lieart. In most 
of them he was considered enthusiastic. Impel- 
led by his devotion to these subjects, he laboured 
incessantly to inspire the public mind with feel- 
ings and dispositions favourable to his views. 
For forty years the press teemed with the pro- 
ductions of his pen, designed exclusively to ele- 
vate the spirit, taste, and virtues of his fellow ci- 
tizens, and to improve, beautify, and felicitate 
their common country. It is beheved that the 
literary labours of Dr. Ramsay have contributed 
very much to impress upon the American cha- 
racter those traits which, without vanity we may 
assert, have raised the United States to a level 
with any nation of tlie globe. Such services can 
nevQr be recompensed. Money could not com- 
pensate them. Fame, the gratitude of the peo- 
ple, and the happiness of his own posterity, in 
a country made happy by his labours, can alone 
requite them. The first he has secured, the se- 
cond begins to be lavished on his memory, and 
the third it is hoped will be realised. His chil- 
dren are now objects of endearment to many 
noble-spirited ladies and gentlemen, whose sym- 
pathies, we trust for the honour of the American 
people, will comuiunicate through the whole na- 
tion. They have a double claim on the liberahty 
of their country. To them the people are debt- 
ors for the services of their father, and for the 
services and sufferings of their grandfather, the 
patriotic Henry Laurens. 

In his private character. Dr. Ramsay was a 
kind and indulgent husband; an affectionate and 



tIFE 01' DR. RAMS.iY. 297 

anxious parent; an instructive and entertaining 
companion. He was a pattern of modesty, sim- 
plicity and meekness, in his intercourse with 
mankind. He never arrogated any superiority 
over his associates, whether surrounded by his 
family at his own fireside, or classed with sena- 
tors and sages; and he has often remarked, that 
he was greatly debtor to this happy tempera- 
nient, for much of the most useful information 
he gathered in his pilgrimage through life. The 
distance, which most men of eminence observe 
towards what are called the middle and lower 
classes of society, deprive them of many oppor- 
tunities of knowledge. Dr. Ramsay sought in- 
formation from all sources; and by the blandness 
of his manners would encourage even his own 
servant to impart the result of his humble expe- 
rience and observation. 

The most charming trait in the character of 
Dr. Ramsay was piety. He was a member of 
and in full communion with the Independent or 
Congregational Church in Charleston. It would 
be expected, from the philanthropy and bene- 
volence of his disposition, that he cherished lit- 
tle prejudice against other sects. This w^as the 
fact. The leading affections of his heart, when 
touched by the influence of the Gospel, grew 
into charity as extensive as the human family; 
and he counted every one, who did the will of 
his Heavenly Father, a brother in Christ. The 
last scene of his life proved the reality of his 
faith in Jesus the Saviour of sinners, and the 
solidity of his pretensions to the character of a 



298 Lllli OF J. ADAMS. 

great man. His expiring moments heightened 
the lustre of his life. He was assassinated in 
the street, a few paces from liis own dwelling, in 
the open day, by a wretched maniac, whose in- 
tellectual malady had not been such as to re- 
quire his confinement. He was shot by a pistol 
loaded with three balls: one passed through the 
coat without injury; another entered the hip, 
and passed out at the groin; and the third en- 
tered the back near the kidnies, and lodged in 
the intestines. The last wound proved mortal 
the second day after it was received. He died 
on the 8th of May, 1815. On his death-bed he 
evinced not the slightest resentment towards the 
unhappy man by whose hand he fell. He bore 
testimony of his innocence in the following em- 
phatic terms: "I know not if these wounds be 
mortal. I am not afraid to die: but should that 
be my fate, I call on all present to bear witness, 
that I consider the unfortunate perpetrator of 
this deed a lunatic, and free from guilt." He 
died without one perturbed emotion. He met 
death with a serene, composed, and confident 
I'eliance on the mercy of God, through the 
blood of the Redeemer. 



J. ADAMS. 

About the year 1 730, a man by the name of 
Henry Adams came from England, with seven 
sons, all of whom were married. The father 
and one of the sons settled in the town of Brain- 



LIFE OF J. ADAMS. 299 

tree, about ten miles from Boston, in the then 
province of Massachusetts Bay. The other 
sons, excepting one, who returned to England, 
fixed tlieir abode in several other parts of the 
same province. Their descendants have multi- 
plied in the common proportion known to the 
experience of this country, and the name is one 
of those most frequently met with in almost 
every part of this commonwealth. They were 
originally farmers and tradesmen; and until the 
controversies between Great Britain and the 
colonies arose, scarcely any of them had emerged 
from the obscurity in which those stations were 
held. Few of tliem, before that time, had pos- 
sessed the advantages of education. The father 
of the late governor of Massachusetts, Samuel 
Adams, was the first of the name distinguished 
in any public character. lie was a merchant 
in Boston, and for some time a representative of 
that town in the general assembly of the pro- 
vince. 

Samuel Adams, and John Adams, were both 
descended from the first Henry, but by two of 
the sons. They were, therefore, remotely con- 
nected in blood; but there is a very early in- 
cident in the life of each of them, which seems 
to indicate, that the spirit of indepeQidence, 
which is so strongly marked in the history of 
the New England colonies from their first set- 
tlement, had been largely shared by the family 
from which they came, and instilled with all its 
efficacy into their minds. 

John Adams was born at Braintree, in Mas- 



300 LIFE OF 3. ADAMS. 

sachusetts, on the 19th of October, 1735. After 
the usual course of studies, he toojt his degree 
of Bachelor of Arts in 1755, and that of Master 
in 1758. There has been j3ubhshed in the 
Monthly Anthology, a letter written by him in 
the year 1 755, and in the twentieth year of his 
age; written to one of his youthful companions. 
Dr. Nathan Webb, and in which the probability 
of a severance of the British colonies fioni the 
mother country; the causes from which that 
event would naturally proceed, and the policy 
by which Britain might prevent it, are all indi- 
cated with the precision of prophecy. The date 
of this letter, the age at which-it was written, 
and the standing in society of the writer at the 
time, are circumstances which render it re- 
markable; no copy of it was kept; but its con- 
tents appear to have made a strong impression 
upon the peison to whom it was wiitten. He 
carefully preserved it, and dying many years 
afterwards, it fell into the possession of his 
nephew. In his hands it remained until about 
the year 1807; when, after the lapse of more 
than half a century, he sent it as a curious docu- 
ment, back to the writer himself 

Mr. Adams was by profession a lawyer; and 
such were his abilities and integrity, that he at- 
tracted the attention, the esteem, and the confi- 
dence, of his fellow citizens. Not contented 
with barely maintaining the I'ights of individuals, 
he early signahzed himself in the defence of the 
rights of his country and of mankind at large, by 
writing his admirable Dissertation on the Canon 



LIFK OF J. ABAMS. 30t 

and feudal laws; a work well adapted to con- 
vince or confound the advocates either for civil 
or ecclesiastical tyranny. It evinced that he 
had abilities to afford powerful aid in the forma- 
tion of republics, on the genuine principles of 
justice and virtue. 

The zeal and firmness with which Mr. Adams 
defended the liberties of his country, did not pre- 
vent his acting in the service of her enemies, 
when he thought they were treated with too 
much severity. Called upon by his profession, 
he boldly stood forth as the advocate of captain 
Preston, who had been imprisoned as the mur- 
derer of some of the citizens of Boston, on the 
memorable 5th of March, 1770. His client's 
cause was most unpopular- The whole town 
had been in a state of irritation, on account of 
the conduct of governor Hutchinson, and the 
troops which were stationed in it. Their re- 
sentment now burst into a flame. But he felt 
the cause to be a just one; and the danger of 
incurring the displeasure of his countrymen 
could not deter him from undertaking it. He 
conducted the cause with great address, by 
keeping off the trial till the passions of the peo- 
ple had time to subside. The trial at length 
commenced, and lasted several days, during 
which he displayed the most extensive know- 
ledge of the laws of his country, and of humani- 
ty; and at the conclusion he had the satisfaction 
of proving to Great Britain herself, that the citi- 
zens of Massachusetts would be just and humane 
to their enemies, amidst the grossest Insults and, 
c c 



30;2 lilfK OF J. ADAMS. 

provocations. Captain Preston was acquitted. In 
this most delicate and important trial, Mr. Adams 
manifested that firmness of mind, that disin- 
terested and enlightened patriotism, and the love 
of justice and humanity, which have uniformly 
marked his conduct in all those great depart- 
ments which he has since filled with so much 
ability and dignity. 

He was a member of the first Congress in 
1774; and was one of the principal promoters 
of the famous resolution of the 4th of July, 
1776, which declared the American colonies 
free, sovereign, and independent states. 

Having been for a considerable length of time 
one of the commissioners of the war department, 
and a principal suggester of the terms to be of- 
fered to France, for forming a treaty of alli- 
ance and commerce, he was sent to the court of 
Versailles, as one of the ministers plenipoten- 
tiary of the United States, to consummate the 
important business. 

On his return from France, he was called up- 
on by Massachusetts, to assist in forming a plan 
of government; and to him this state is chiefly 
indebted for their present excellent constitution. 

After the important business was accomplish- 
ed, he returned to Europe, vested with full 
powers from Congress, to assist at any conference 
which might be opened for the establishment of 
peace; and he soon after received other powers 
to negotiate a loan of money for the use of the 
United States; and to represent them as their 
minister plenipotentiary to their High Mighti- 



LIFE OF J. ADAMS. 303 

nesses the States General of the United Pro- 
vinces. Such important trusts show in what 
high estimation he was held by his country, and 
the able and satisfactory manner in which he 
executed them, proved that their confidence was 
well placed. 

While in Europe, Mr. Adams published his 
learned and celebrated work, entitled, " A De- 
fence of the Constitutions of Government of the 
United States of America;" in which he advo- 
cates, as the fundamental principles of a free 
government — equal representation, of which 
numbers, or property, or both, should be the 
rule — a total separation of the executive from 
the legislative power, and of the judicial from 
both — and a balance in the legislative by three 
independent equal branches. " If there is one 
certain truth," says he, " to be collected from 
the history of all ages, it is this; that the people's 
rights and liberties, and the democratical mix- 
ture in a constitution, can never be preserved 
without a strong executive; or, in other words, 
without separating the executive power from the 
legislative." 

A character who rendered such eminent ser- 
vices to his country both at home and abroad, in 
seasons of the greatest gloominess and danger, 
and who possessed such an extensive knowledge 
of politics and government, did not remain un- 
noticed by his grateful countrymen. He was 
called in the year 1789, by the choice of his 
country, to the vice presidency of the United 
States, which office he filled during the eight 



S04 ilFE OF J. ADAMS. 

years of the Washington administration, when 
by the voice of his country he was called to the 
presidency of the United States. He adminis- 
tered the government for four years, when, in 
March, 1801, Mr. Jefferson was elected as his 
successor. 

The difficulties which Mr. Adams had to en- 
counter during his administration were various 
and great. In the violence of party it was to 
be expected, that a diversity of opinions would 
exist concerning the wisdom of some of his mea- 
sures; but impartial history will do justice to the 
distinguished merits of this great and honest 
man, and enrol his name among the most emi- 
nent patriots and politicians of the age in which 
he lived. 

" They who have had an opportunity of know- 
ing his excellency, Mr. Adams," says a Euro- 
pean writer, " trace in his features the most un- 
equivocal marks of probity and candour. He 
unites to that gravity which is suitable to the dig- 
nity of his station, an affability which prejudices 
you in his favour. Although of a silent turn, as 
is common to men who engage in important af- 
fairs, yet he has a natural eloquence for the dis- 
cussion of important subjects, and for the re- 
commending and enforcing the measures and 
systems which are dictated by sound policy. He 
has neither the corrupted nor corrupting princi- 
ples of lord Chesterfield, but the plain and vir- 
tuous demeanour of sir William Temple. Like 
him also, he is simple in negotiation, where he 
finds candour in those who treat with him. 



LIFE OF JEFFERSON. 305 

Otherwise, he has the severity of a true republi- 
can; his high idea of virtue giving him a rigid- 
ness, which makes it difficult for him to accom- 
modate himself to those intrigues which Euro- 
pean poHtics have introduced into negotiation." 



JEFFERSON. 



Thomas Jefferson, late president of the 
United States, is descended from ancestors who 
were among the earliest emigrants to this coun- 
try. He was born in Chesterfield county, Vir- 
ginia, on the second day of April, 1 743. 

After he had completed his education at the 
college of William and Mary, he commenced the 
study of the law under the direction of George 
Wythe, the chancellor of Virginia. In his pro- 
fession he afterwards attained to great celebrity. 

In the year 1769, he was chosen a member 
of the legislature of his native state, and soon 
became conspicuous among his colleagues, who 
were, many of them, some of the most eminent 
lawyers of Virginia. 

In June, 1775, the propositions of lord North 
were laid before the assembly: to Mr. Jefferson, 
who was still a member of the same, was assigned 
the duty of framing the reply of the house. This 
year he was elected a member of Congress. He 
is the author of the declaration of independence. 
The original draught experienced some trivial 
alterations, but it is believed to have been alter- 
ed very little for the better. 
JD c2 



306 J.li-'E or JEFFERse.X. 

By a resolution of the general assembly oi 
Virginia, dated November 5, 1776, Thomas Jef- 
ferson, Edmund Pendleton, George Wythe, 
George Mason, and Thomas Ludwell Lee, were 
appointed a committee to revise the laws of the 
commonwealth. This was a work of very great 
labour and difficulty; but the comnnltee of re- 
visers did not disappoint the expectations of their 
country. In the commencement of their labours, 
they were deprived of the assistance whicii might 
have been received from the abilities of Messrs. 
Mason and Lee, by the death of the one and the 
resignation of the other. The remaining three 
prosecuted their task with indefatigable activity 
and zeal, and on the 18th of June, 1779, made 
a report of one hundred and twenty-six bills, 
which they had prepared. This report showed 
an intimate knowledge of the great principles of 
legislation, and reflected the highest honour 
upon those who formed it. The people of Vir- 
ginia are indebted to it for almost all the best 
parts of their present code of laws. Among the 
changes then made in the monarchical system 
of jurisprudence, which had been previously in 
force, the most important were effected by the 
act abolishing the right of primogeniture, and 
directing the real estate of persons dying intes- 
tate to be equally divided among their children, 
or other nearest relations; by the act for regu- 
lating conveyances, which converted all estates 
in tail into fees simple, and thus destroyed one of 
the supports of the proud and overbearing distinc- 
tions of particular families; and finally by the act 



LIFE OV JEFFERSON. .jOT 

for the establishment of rehgious freedom. Had 
all the proposed bills been adopted by the legis- 
lature, other changes of great importance would 
have taken place. A wise and universal system 
of education would have been established, giving 
to the children of the poorest citizen the oppor- 
tunity of attaining science, and thus of rising to 
honour and extensive usefulness. The propor- 
tion between crimes and punishments would have 
been better adjusted, and malefactors would have 
been made to promote the interests of the com- 
monwealth by their labour. But the public 
spirit of the assembly could not keep pace with 
the liberal views of Jefferson, Pendleton, and 
Wythe. 

In the year 1779, he was chosen to succeed 
Patrick Henry, as governor of Virginia, and w^as 
reappointed the following year. In 1782, he 
was appointed a minister plenipotentiary, to join 
those in Europe, but before the vessel in which 
he was to embark could leave the port in con- 
sequence of the ice, intelligence was received 
that the provisional articles of peace between the 
United States and Great Britain had been sign- 
ed, and Congress of course dispensed with his 
leaving America. 

On the estabHshment of peace, and the conse- 
quent opening of a general commercial inter- 
course, plenipotentiary commissions for the con- 
cluding treaties of commerce, were given to 
Thomas Jetferson, Dr. Franklin, and John 
Adams, addressed to the several powers of Eu- 
rope, and Mr. Jefferson sailed from the United 



508 LtFE OF JEi-FEUSON. 

States in July, 1784 A commercial treaty with 
Prussia was the only result of these general 
commissions; immediately after the signing of 
whicli, Dr. Franklin returned to America, and 
Mr. Jefferson was appointed his successor as 
minister plenipotentiary to France. A short 
time previous to the expiration of the joint com- 
mission, he crossed over to London, with Mr. 
Adams, to endeavour to promote, between the 
government of the United States and Great Bri- 
tain, a cordial connexion of inteiests, and, among 
the terms they proposed to offer, was an ex- 
change of naturalization of citizens and vessels, 
as to every thing relating to commerce or cona- 
mercial navigation. The ministers were re- 
ceived by lord Carmarthen, and their commis- 
sions read, but he evaded every attempt they 
made to procure a conference on the subject; 
and a few days only before their commissions 
would have expired, and after seven weeks at- 
tendance in London, Mr. Jefferson returned to 
Paris. 

Among the principal benefits which he gained 
for the United States by the negotiation at the 
court of Versailles, were the abolition of seve- 
ral monopolies, and the free admission into 
France of tobacco, rice, whale oil, salted fish, 
and flour; and of the two latter articles into the 
French West India islands. 

On his return from France, in the year 1 789, 
he was appointed to the office of secretary of 
state, which beheld to the 1st of January, 1794, 
when he resigned it and retired to private life. 



LIFE OF JEFFERSON. 509 

In 1797 he was elected vice president of the 
United States, and in 1801, president. Elevated 
to the chief magistracy of the union, he conti- 
nued in this important station till the year 1809, 
when he declined a third election, being anxious 
again to return to the scenes of domestic life. 

" The interdiction of commercial intercourse 
with other nations, the most prominent measure 
perhaps of his administration," says Mr. Dela- 
plaine, '* appears to have been imposed by cir- 
cumstances growing out of the peculiar state of 
the relations of foreign belligerent powers, who 
deemed it essential to the maintenance of their 
own, to invade the rights of neutrals. This mea- 
sure promised, while it secured our property and 
our seamen, to compel a redress of wrongs, by 
depriving the aggressors of a trade which had 
become of considerable importance to them. 
The continuance of the embargo by Mr. Jeffer- 
son, notwithstanding the frequent evasions or 
infractions of the law, was approved by some, 
while it was considered by others as injurious to 
the interests of the nation. 

" It may be proper to state this fact, but it would 
not well comport with the principles upon which 
this work is conducted, to offer any opinion, 
were we competent, on a subject which has 
been so much discussed by the ablest men of our 
country, and upon whose merits it is for the na- 
tion at large to decide. 

" Mr. Jefferson has been charged with a parti- 
cular animosity towards England, and with a con- 
stant desire to engage the United States in a war 



310 ilFE OF JEFFERSON. 

with that nation. But it would seem, if the pro- 
traction of the embargo, when the country cried 
out for war, did not disprove this charge, that, 
at least his conduct on another occasion might, 
in every impartial mind. The insult to our na- 
tional sovereignty, offered by the British vessel 
of war the Leopard, excited but one sensation 
throughout the United States. Mr. Jefferson 
strove to allay, and did allay, the violent excite- 
ment in the public mind, and for the time, by his 
individual moderation averted war: and although 
his forbearance in this instance may. not be ap- 
plauded by all his friends, surely it did not bear 
the face of much consistency in those who had 
before reproached him with having cherished 
hostile propensities, then to censure him for his 
pacific disposition. 

"An undue partiality for France, and a corres- 
pondence and connexion with Bonaparte, have 
been urged against him; but his conduct, during 
the very fever of democratic sympathy, in 1793, 
ought to confute the former charge; and the lat- 
ter is almost too preposterous to be seriously 
met. Mr. Jefferson never for an instant could 
look upon tlie ambitious schemes and despotic 
acts of Napoleon in even his accustomed spirit 
of toleration. He was precisely such a ruler as 
Mr. Jefferson could not possibly like. For the 
rest, if it be necessary to say so, no private let- 
ter, message, communication, or present of any 
kind, ever passed between them." 

Mr. Jefferson was chosen to succeed Dr. Rit- 
tenhouse, as president of the American Philoso- 



JLirB OF JEFl'ERSOX. 311 

phical Society, and is a member of several lite- 
rary societies in Europe as well as America. He 
is, perhaps, one of the most learned men our 
country has produced. He published his " Sum- 
mary View of the Rights of British America," 
in 1774; "Notes on Virginia," in 1781. 



THE END. 



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